


Strange Land

by zabjade



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: Buffy Summers. Dutiful sister and daughter. Dedicated Slayer. Trapped on the wrong side of a dimensional portal with only a vampire she’s supposed to loathe to rely on. A vampire who shouldn’t care what happens to her, but inexplicably does. Diverges during the episode Shadow.If you previously read this on a different site, I encourage you to reread it here, as a plot point has been altered to reflect my original plans for this story.





	1. Chapter 1

Every step towards the Magic Box sent a spike of pain through Buffy’s body, but she didn’t care. Actually, no, she kind of _did_ care. It was both a distraction from what was going on with her mom ( _cancer,_ a little girl voice whispered in the back of her head. _Mommy has a brain tumor._ ) and a reminder that she’d failed. She’d fought the crazy-strong crazy woman who wanted Dawn, and she’d been swatted like a fly. One of those fat, lazy ones that would just sit there and wash its little stick hands on your sandwich during a picnic.

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears. Picnics…. Would they ever have any more of those as a family? A strangled sob escaped her, and she had to stop for a moment to try to compose herself. She had to be strong. Dawn _needed_ her to be strong. It didn’t matter what she’d started out as. Right now, Dawn was a fourteen-year-old girl with a sick mother. She needed her big sister to be solidly on top of things, not falling apart.

Buffy closed her eyes and breathed as deeply as she could. The skank – Glory, the gross little minion guy had called her – had cracked a few ribs during the beatdown. Slayer healing would clear it all up in a day or so, but for now she felt like one giant bruise with random stabby bits. That included the partially healed wound from having her own stake shoved into her body. God, she was the _vampire_ slayer, and she hadn’t even been able to do _that_ right.

She didn’t buy Spike’s whole death wish thing (not yet. Maybe someday, but _not yet_ ), but something had been off. Even Riley had been shocked that she’d been defeated by just a single completely average vampire. Even Riley…. She didn’t want to think about what “even Riley” was supposed to mean, so she took several more cautious breaths before pushing it aside and opening her eyes.

She needed to hurry and pick Dawn up from the Magic Box so they could both see Mom, but…. She looked off into the direction of the nearest cemetery. She could handle a fledge or two, at least, even with her injuries. Ten minutes or so wouldn’t really make much difference, and she could really use the stress relief and confidence boost, especially after the week she’d been having. And maybe she’d even come across that snake thing Glory had summoned.

There was a moment of hesitation, but then Buffy turned away from the Magic Box and broke into a limping jog towards the cemetery. _Of course, with my luck,_ she thought wryly, _the place will be completely quiet for…._ The thought trailed off as the ants-crawling-on-her-skin tingle of a young vampire or two shivered through her, along with the herd of big old spiders tap dancing down her spine that meant a powerful vamp was nearby. And she recognized the exact choreography of those specific spiders.

Buffy put on a burst of speed, rounding a tree just in time to see Spike dust one of the three vampires he was fighting. She paused for a moment – _only_ to catch her breath and not at all to watch Spike as he practically danced with his two remaining adversaries – before launching herself into the fray. He dusted one, then – just as Buffy readied her own stake – the other, leaving her with nothing to fight. Or, well, _almost_ nothing. Without even thinking about it, she cocked back her arm and slammed her fist right into the center of Spike’s grinning face.

“ _Ow!_ What the bloody…?” Spike scowled at her, holding a hand over his injured nose. “Bloke tries to do you a favor, taking on the nasties, and _this_ is how you repay me?”

She shifted uncomfortably, actually feeling a little bit bad about hitting him. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Which actually wasn’t really a prerequisite for a punch to the nose, but it felt kind of wrong after the confusing mess of the last time she’d seen him. First there had been that whole disturbing fight in the alley, where she’d been half-convinced he’d wanted to kiss her. She’d said the cruelest, most hurtful thing she could think of before throwing his money at him and walking off. And then he’d come to her house and just sat with her while she cried over her mom. It had been seriously of the weird, especially with the random shotgun he’d had, but also comforting.

“How’s your mum?” he asked suddenly. “She, uh, she still in hospital, then?”

The words, _like you even care,_ floated through her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually say them. Not after the time spent on the porch steps.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “She’s um….” She sniffled and wiped away a few stray tears. She shouldn’t be telling him this. Not before talking to Dawn, at least, but the words came out anyway. “Th-there’s a tumor in her head. In her brain.”

Spike’s face seemed to crumple for a moment, like her words had staked him. Then he shook it off. “Oh…. We’ll, I’ll, I’ll just keep patrolling then, shall I? But not for you,” he hurriedly added. “For Joyce. She’s always treated me fair and should have her kids about while she’s doing poorly.”

Buffy wasn’t really sure what to say to that, but a sudden commotion from the other side of the cemetery saved her from having to say anything at all. She turned away and raced towards the noise, Spike a silent shadow by her side. She should have been telling him to go away, to go home and leave the slaying to her, but it was oddly comforting to have him there. Maybe because he was a familiar annoyance, and she needed the familiar right now, no matter how much of a pain in the butt it could be.

Since coming to Sunnydale, she’d seen a lot of seriously bizarre things. What she was seeing right now in front of a crypt… well, honestly, it didn’t even make the top ten list, but it was still totally of the uber weird. The doorway was filled with a swirl of colors, and a bunch of humanoid demons with scales and lumps were tossing both humans and vampires through it.

Even the vampires seemed seriously unhappy about it. Not that Buffy actually cared how they felt. The humans, though? She was going to have to go in after them. _Not the first time I’ve done it,_ she thought, remembering the street kids she’d helped when she was waitressing in L.A.

Maybe she couldn’t win against whatever that Glory chick was, but she was still the Slayer, damn it! She could fight off some butt-ugly kidnapper demons. Once more into a breach. Ignoring her injuries as best she could, Buffy headed into battle, fists and quips ready to fly.

**...**

Riley meandered through one of Sunnydale’s cemeteries, lost in thought as he absently rubbed the bite mark on his neck. Sandy…. He stared down at the stake in his hand. The one he’d used to dust the vampire he’d allowed to feed from him. It had hurt, at first, fangs piercing his flesh. But then it had been…. Words couldn’t even describe it. The pleasure of it. The feeling of being _needed_ and important. No wonder Buffy was always letting the things bite her.

He remembered how she’d tried to hide Dracula’s bite from him with a scarf. Despite it being November and a little chilly, he wouldn’t be able to do the same with Sandy’s bite. Maybe a turtleneck? No, that wouldn’t help for when he was alone with Buffy. Maybe he could claim something got him while he was patrolling for her? A group of five or so, and he’d taken them all out with nothing but a measly little bite mark in damage. Yeah, he could spin that for her.

 _Assuming she even notices the bite,_ he thought bitterly. The only times she seemed to realize he existed these days was when she needed someone to foist her kid sister off on. The girl was fourteen, not four, and could look after herself. Dawn wasn’t Buffy’s responsibility, and she sure as hell wasn’t his. Despite that, he’d been the dutiful boyfriend, taking on the busywork of spending time with Dawn and getting her ice cream. Only to then have to listen her go on about how he didn’t incite the same kind of passion in Buffy that Angel had.

How many times had she let him bite her? How many times had Angel’s fangs sunk into her tender flesh, drowning her in euphoria? Riley shuddered at the thought, torn between disgust and arousal as he flashed back to Sandy’s bite. It hadn’t lasted long before he’d thrust his stake into her chest, but those few moments….

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a fight. Buffy was there, battling demons with no one but Spike to help her. Before Riley could jump in to save her, though, the demons started escaping through some sort of portal. Buffy went in after them, Spike at her heels. And as Riley stood there, wondering what he should do, the portal started to close.

 

**...**

 

The last time Buffy had ended up going through a portal, she’d dropped down into a dank and dark sort of factory-ish place. This time, she stepped into a bright woodsy area full of cheerful birdsong and a beautiful river with stepping stones making a path across it. While this exit wasn’t in a ceiling, it was about a foot higher than the entrance had been, and she hit the ground with a thud that aggravated all of her injuries and sent a jolt of pain through her body.

She gritted her teeth and fought through it, forcing herself to her feet and out onto the stepping stones. The lumpy demons and their captives were already across. She to get to them. Had to take out the bad guys and free the prisoners. She could do this. She –

“Bloody hell!”

Oh god. Something disturbingly like fear washed through Buffy in waves of cold dread at the sound of the startled, near-panicked curse. That voice, here out in the sun. She turned – slow, so slow, like moving through thick syrup – and there he was. Spike, trying to hide under his coat from sunlight that… _wasn’t_ burning him up.

“Buffy!” he called out, eyes wide with alarm.

And suddenly, she wasn’t moving in slow motion anymore. It was fast, too fast, her foot skidding along the wet surface of one of the stones, sliding out from under her. Despite her slayer reflexes, she was too hurt to catch herself in time. She fell into the water, her head hitting a stone with a sickening _crack_ that turned the world into a dizzying smear of colors.

**...**

 

When Buffy went through the portal, Spike called himself all sorts of an idiot (and her, too, for that matter) and followed right in after her. Only to find himself instantly assaulted by a brightness and warmth that sent instinctive terror sizzling through him.

“Bloody hell!” he swore, trying to hide under his coat from the deadly sun.

Except… the sodding thing wasn’t really being all that deadly. He should have at least been smoldering by now, but he was only feeling a bit of warmth. Which was what a bright, sunny day was meant to be doing for the non-combustionally inclined. Huh. Well, that was… something he didn’t actually time to think on at the moment. He’d caught sight of the Buffy, out on the river and turning towards him. Something was off, though. Her usual grace was gone, leaving her wobbling alarmingly on the wet stones. Then she started to fall.

“Buffy!” he called out, racing towards her.

 _So what if she falls in the drink?_ part of him asked even as the rest of him was cursing himself for being too slow. _Not like she’s a wicked witch or a bloody mogwai, now is it? The water won’t do her a mischief or send quadruplets popping out her back. Bit of a swim might cool down some of that high ‘n’ mighty attit-_

Then Buffy hit her head on a rock with a horrible thunk and slid limply into the water, and Spike’s mind went numb for a moment. His body, though, was on autopilot. He went in after, snatching her from the current’s grip and dragging her to shore. She was a dead weight in his arms – though not actually dead. Her heart was beating, and it was bloody well going to stay that way! – and her hair was stained by the blood still coming from the knock on the head. God, the smell of it was intoxicating.

Hunger and arousal and a part of him horrified at the first because he loved her and a part what wanted to eat her all the more because of that love. _You’re beneath me_. The words she’d tossed at him along with the money, like he was naught but a cheap whore instead of someone who’d been giving her important information. And, well, himself. He’d told her who he’d been, baring his heart to her if not his soul. And she’d crushed it beneath her designer boots.

For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw the bloody bitch back into the river and let her drown. The urge passed just seconds before she came to sudden life, thrashing and flailing as she fought to get out of his arms and onto her feet. She even managed to whack him in the nose, and for once it didn’t brass him off. Well, maybe a little, but not enough to pay any mind.

He set her on her feet, and she immediately doubled over, coughing up water. She needed a good sit down and a chance to recover, but a quick look about showed him they didn’t have time. Several of the big, ugly demons were heading their way, and the portal was closing. Half-drowned and likely concussed or not, they had to get a move on.

“We have to go, Slayer. _Now,_ ” he said, wrapping his arms around her and steering her towards the portal.

“Wh-what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she whispered unsteadily, voice hoarse and weak from the water. “We….” She coughed, a horrible wracking sound that made his own lungs ache in sympathy, and spat out more water. “We have to go back… rescue the people.”

“Are you out of your bleedin’ mind?” Spike snapped. He could understand if it had been her mates the demons had, but these were complete bloody strangers! Why risk getting trapped here for them? He wondered if it was due to the blow to the head, but no, probably not. Daft bint had always had a distinct lack of self-preservation when it came to others in danger. “The portal’s closing.”

She gave him a mulish look and dug in her heels. She was weak right now, but if she took it into her head to actively fight him, he wouldn’t be able to stop her. Not with the bloody chip. It’d have to be words if he wanted to get them both back. He had to think of something, _anything_ , to get her to come along willingly.

“What about the folks back in Sunnydale? That portal closes with us still here, you won’t be able to help them when they need you. Or your mum and li’l sis. What’s to be, Slayer, them or these people here?”

There was a moment of silence, then she slumped against him, letting him lead her towards the portal. “Why do you even care?” she asked. “You should just leave me here. You have a better chance without me.”

She sounded resigned, like she expected him to drop her like a hot stone and make a break for it. Maybe even _wanted_ him too, so she could try to help these people without any guilt. He could. He’d be able to make it if she wasn’t holding him back. He could go through, tell her mates what had happened. They’d find a way to get her back. So what if he hadn’t a bloody clue where they were. They’d figure out which of the hundreds of thousands of possible dimensions this could be and find Buffy. All he had to do was let go and leave her here.

Bugger that! He wasn’t bloody leaving her behind. He got a better hold on her and increased his speed towards the rapidly shrinking portal, forcing himself to ignore her sudden grunt of pain. She could rest once they were back. He’d get her through and then get her home. Tuck her all snug and safe into her bed. And she’d probably pop him in the sodding nose again for it, because she was an ungrateful bitch and he was a daft wanker for being in love with her and…. And the bloody portal was already too small for them to get through.

He stopped in his tracks, staring in dismay. They couldn’t be trapped here. There had to be a way. He could stick his hands through, force the bloody thing back open wider until Buffy could slither through…. Except the only thing that would likely accomplish was slicing his sodding arms off. Bloody hell, there had to be _something_. He wasn’t the best at actually following through, but he was good with plans. Think, think, goddammit, _think_! Maybe… maybe they could….

Then the demons caught up with them, and there was no more time for thinking.


	2. Chapter 2

Giles found himself staring at the clock in his shop for the second time in as many minutes, though it felt as though hours had passed in that time. Buffy was running late. Not terribly so, but he couldn’t imagine her dawdling at a time like this. Not when it came to picking up Dawn. The girl herself was sitting at the research table, attempting to do her homework. She mostly seemed to be fidgeting and watching the clock just as much as he was. Poor child. Her mother in hospital, and an ancient primordial evil after her, though she was as yet unaware of the latter.

The door burst open, the bell clanging wildly as Riley rushed in. “Buffy’s gone! Spike chased her into some sort of portal about twenty minutes ago.”

Buffy was gone… Giles felt his mind go blank for a moment. Gone, what did that even mean? Buffy, his Slayer, she couldn’t just be _gone_ through some mysterious portal.

“ _What?_ ” Dawn shrieked. Willow and Tara immediately tried to comfort her, but she pulled away from them, getting up from her chair with enough force to send it clattering to the floor. “Buffy can’t be gone, not with mom in the hospital! That’s… that’s just _stupid._ ” She glared at Riley like it was all somehow his fault. “ _You’re_ stupid! Buffy wouldn’t let Spike chase her through a portal. He wouldn’t even be able to.”

“I know what I saw,” Riley snapped. “Some demons went through the portal, then Buffy ran into it with Spike right behind her. He chased her through it.”

Giles frowned in annoyance at the man’s insistence on what was patently rubbish. What was Spike supposed to have done, made rude or lewd gestures at Buffy until she’d run off right into a portal?

“That, uh, does seem rather unlikely.” And a pointless waste of time to argue about. “What did this portal look like? We need –”

A great bloody snake crashed in through the windows, hissed wildly at a screaming Dawn, and then retreated. It was the monster Buffy had warned them of, and Giles was suddenly convinced it was on the way to tell its master that it had found the key. And the Slayer was nowhere about to stop it.

 

**...**

 

Buffy stood quietly in line in her gray, shapeless smock and metal slave collar, waiting for her turn for a bowl full of gray, tasteless slop. The gray, hopeless life of a slave. Is that what she would become? Going out with a whimper instead of a bang? She still fantasized about lashing out, declaring herself Buffy, the Vampire Slayer before going toe-to-toe with the slavers and showing them what she was made of. It would be pointless, though, and she knew it. The instant she tried to actually hit one of them, the gross slug-thing they’d stuck in her head would send whirling razorblades of pain through her brain. Once had been more than enough of that.

She shuddered at the memory. She’d still been kind of woozy from the blow to the head when the demons had pulled her away from Spike. She’d been able to fight, but nowhere near at her best. They’d forced her down to the ground and shoved a vile, squishy _thing_ in her ear. The babble and grunts of the demons had suddenly become words she could understand, and when she’d taken a swing at one of them…. God, her head ached just thinking about the pain.

Though at least she hadn’t been as bad off as Spike. He’d let out a blood curdling scream of agony before passing out, blood trickling from his nose, ears, and even eyes. Their captors had been confused by the reaction, but Buffy had been pretty sure it had something to do with the slug they’d gotten into him interacting badly with the chip. Spike had agreed, when he’d regained consciousness the next day, saying he’d felt the chip fire as soon as the slug had done its thing. That had been roughly a week ago. Now they were in some sort of work camp, being trained at various tasks.

The demon ahead of her in line – some species she didn’t know that was just as much a slave as she was – was given its food and moved out of line, leaving Buffy at the front. She held out the bowl on a tray she’d picked up at the start of the line, expecting the same single ladle of gray “nutrient paste” as always. Instead, she was given two ladles of some kind of fragrant stew along with a thick slice of bread with purple stuff slathered on top.

She blinked, noticing for the first time that her food station had two large kettles instead of the usual one. She didn’t stop to dwell on it, though, moving swiftly out of line so the demon behind her could be fed. She looked around as she headed towards the resting area and noticed that all of the feeding stations – set up by what the various species needed to survive – had two kettles now. Huh. That was weird. Why would they suddenly have new foods while keeping the old ones? Did the fact that she’d gotten some of the new stuff have anything to do with the tag that had been added to her collar after today’s work detail?

She shook her head, pushing the questions aside as she entered the resting area. This time of day was the closest the slaves had to freedom. If they wanted to eat, they had to get into the food lines pretty much as soon as they got back to the complex. But they at least had options on where they wanted to eat. In the mess area where they had breakfast, in the assembly yard, or the rest area. That last was a large room covered with thin sleeping pallets.

Spike was already there, sitting in their area and staring off into space. Like her, he was wearing only a collar and a gray smock that went down to mid-thigh, exposing a lot of leg that Buffy had to grudgingly admit wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes. He looked washed out, though, and not just because of the unflattering color. It was almost like something had died in him when the slug and the chip had had the big pain orgy in his head. It reminded her of when he’d tried to kill himself in Xander’s basement because he’d thought he couldn’t even fight other demons.

 _Not gonna happen,_ she thought firmly. Not on her watch. She knew she shouldn’t care about what happened to the stupid vampire, but, well… he was _her_ stupid vampire, damn it! And the only thing familiar in this place. And, if she was honest with herself, taking care of him was helping her stay steady. It kept her thoughts off of the future and what was happening with her mom and sister back home. If she’d been in with the other humans, maybe helping them would have helped her, but after a brief discussion she’d been chucked in with the vampires and other more-or-less humanoid demons.

“Hey,” she said as she sat down beside him, balancing her food carefully so the stew wouldn’t spill.

There was a bowl of blood on a tray beside Spike, proof that he’d actually gone through the line after she’d put him in it. She couldn’t tell if was a different kind of blood from normal, but there was definitely more of it. He’d gotten the same new tag that she had. It wasn’t exactly a scientific sample or anything, but she was betting that was the reason for the better grub.

“You need to eat,” she said quietly, setting a good example by biting into her slice of bread. It was dense and chewy, and the purple stuff on top was the consistency of thick mashed potatoes with a vaguely sweet, nutty flavor. “They’ve changed the food for some of us, so it might taste better now.”

“It’s human,” he said.

Buffy froze, staring at him wide-eyed. Human blood. Had someone died to provide that, or had a little bit been taken from each of the human slaves? Either way, there was the urge to grab the bowl and fling it away. She took a slow, deep breath, fighting the urge. It wasn’t Spike’s fault he had been given human, and pouring it out wasn’t going to magically put it back into whoever it had come from.

“So it’ll definitely taste better,” Spike continued. “But what’s the bloody point?” He laughed, a short, humorless sound. “We’re slaves, pet, and we’ve no way to fight back. Even if we escaped, we’d be utterly helpless, and forced to be pacifists for however long we managed to survive. Not sure about you, but I don’t fancy living like that.”

The automatic response, _you aren’t even living, anyway_ , popped into her head but didn’t make it to her mouth. Instead, she said, “They aren’t giving us better food out of the goodness of their hearts.”

She had the sudden, horrible worry that maybe her food was just as much people as his. She forced the thought away. It made sense to give Spike people because that was what vampires naturally ate. Sentient beings were totally _not_ part of this complete Slayer breakfast. And, honestly, if it _was_ people, she didn’t really want to know.

“Something’s coming up, and we need to be at our bests if we’re going to deal with it. We’ll eventually get out of this dimension, and when we do, Giles or Willow will figure out a way to get these things out of our heads. So, you just drink the damn blood already!”

His lips twitched slightly into a smile at her tone, and he actually did what she’d said.

Once they were both finished, Buffy took their dishes back to be washed while Spike stacked their pallets, making one slightly thicker one for them to share. That had started the first night after Spike had come to. He’d still been in a lot of pain, and she hadn’t been able to ignore it. So, she’d stacked their pallets and had made him lie down with his head in her lap so she could massage it. She’d silently cried the entire time, remembering doing the same for her mom once she’d started getting the headaches.

After that, they’d just kept doing it. It was nice to have something at least a little thicker to sleep on, and, well, it didn’t feel quite as lonely with him that close. It was still kinds of weird and unsettling though, especially since the smocks were literally the _only_ things they were wearing other than collars. Spike had been a gentleman about it so far. Or possibly just so apathetic that he didn’t care about making lewd, snarky comments. She almost wished he would.

As she curled up beside him, her usual mantra floated through her head. _I’m Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, and this is_ not _going to break me. We’ll get out of here and get home._ She drifted off to sleep with those words firmly in mind.

 

**...**

 

Since reaching the training camp, the days had pretty much all been the same. Wake up at dawn, get in line for a few mouthfuls of rodent blood, gather in the yard to be sorted, and be set to some mindless task. Spike had put his all into each one. Not much point to any of it, but it kept his hands busy and his mind full of white noise. It was better than thinking on the future, centuries of boring drudgery stretching out before him with no chance of fighting his way free or going out in a blaze of glory.

Last night had been different though, hadn’t it? Both he and the Slayer had had tags added to their collars, and there had been a nice bowl of human for him after the day’s work in a quarry. Sodding well figured, didn’t it? His first taste of relatively fresh human blood since the ruddy chip, and he’d been too bloody depressed to properly enjoy it. That was sod’s law for you.

Buffy had gotten a similar upgrade to her nosh. That upgrade had continued at breakfast, when the two of them and others with the new tags had been separated out and sat down at a table together. After that had been some new togs for the lot of them. A bare scrap of a black leather skirt that barely covered the nethers for the blokes, and the same along with a breast band for the birds, including the Slayer.

He had to admit, skimpy as it was, he felt a touch more himself in the black leather than he had in the sodding gray smock. And the way Buffy kept sneaking shy little peeks at his all but exposed body before blushing and looking away was doing a fair turn at keeping the dark clouds of despair at bay. Enough so he was actually interested when he and the other tagged slaves were led into what seemed to be an arena.

They were all stood side-by-side – Buffy to his left and a particularly warty frunagek at his right – as a few of the demons in charge inspected them.

“Slaves,” one of them finally announced. “All of you have shown exceptional amounts of strength, endurance, speed, and agility. Useful traits for any slave, but especially so for gladiators.”

Gladiators? Everything in Spike honed in on that word, like a dog scenting a bitch in heat. Gladiators _fought_. The excruciating agony that had pounded him down into unconsciousness apparently wasn’t the norm, but whatever the slugs did was enough that no one, not even the Slayer, tried to attack more than once. There was no way they were meant to be fighting through that, which meant there had to be a way to stop the slugs from reacting.

“The gor’shurug in your heads are telepathic parasites that feed on thought energy,” the slave trainer continued. “They’ve been told to cause their hosts pain if they attack anything.” An ugly little smile spread across its face. “And now they’re told this: Starting now, these particular slaves may attack each other, but not kill. Begin!”

Spike didn’t even need a moment to absorb the meaning of those words. They were instantly part of him. It wasn’t what he had been hoping for, the freedom to attack anyone at will and possibly get free, and he wasn’t happy about the no killing, but it was good enough for now. He instantly turned to his right, his fist smashing into the face of the demon next to him. The violence of it – after a week without and the fear of never experiencing it again – sizzled through him in a rush of sensation that left him laughing in wild glee.

He was still a slave, and he couldn’t kill, but he could bloody well _fight_ again. He focused on that and threw himself into the melee with gloriously reckless abandon.

 

**...**

 

Punch, kick, duck, weave, twist to the side, crunch a nose with the heel of her hand, grunt and push on through the pain when she didn’t dodge fast enough. Fighting her fellow slaves at the say-so of the slavers wasn’t high on Buffy’s list of things she wanted to do, but since no one else seemed to agree with that, she didn’t really have much choice. And, well, as much as she hated to admit it, after a week of no slaying, it felt really good to finally cut loose.

She was Action Girl, damn it, the Slayer. Violence was part of who she was. It didn’t matter if her strength and fighting ability made Riley uncomfortable. It didn’t matter that the one time she had truly reveled in her power and calling had been during that whole “want, take, have” debacle with Faith. It didn’t…. A familiar pale hand suddenly flashed into her field of vision, catching and redirecting the scaly fist that had been sailing towards her face.

“Keep your head in the game, Slayer, or it’s like to be knocked off, no kill rule or not,” Spike shouted, though more to be heard over all the noise, it seemed, than out of any kind of anger.

The awful, dull look in his eyes was gone, replaced by an excited gleam like a kid on Christmas morning as he moved effortlessly through the frenzied mob of demons. Almost like he was…dancing. _Come on. I can feel it, Slayer. You know you wanna dance._ She shivered and blocked a blow, her body on autopilot as she thought back to that night in the alley behind the Bronze. God, it felt like a lifetime ago, and not just a week. The mock battle that had left him panting and breathless and….

Buffy pushed her memories back as she pushed her body through the demons. She didn’t want to think right now. She just wanted to move, to _be_. She joined up with Spike, and they danced. Their styles meshed seamlessly. They’d fought as both mortal enemies and reluctant allies and were each very aware of what the other could do.

Eventually, though, there was no one left to fight, leaving the two of them staring at each other, both of them bruised and bloody and Buffy winded while Spike was breathing like he was. He eyed her warily, body tensed to defend himself even though they both knew he couldn’t. He was helpless against her, which meant she could “win” the fight right now with a single blow if she wanted to. But, well, she _didn’t_ want to. It didn’t feel right to attack someone who couldn’t fight back, and he was still the only familiar thing in this crazy dimension. She didn’t want to hurt him.

As she stood there doing nothing, Spike slowly relaxed, his head tilting to the side as he studied her. Then he held out his hand. Buffy stared at it for a moment, then, slowly, hesitantly, reached out and took it in her own. It was cool and firm and calloused and _familiar_. Tears threatening to spill over the whole horrible situation, she yanked him towards her and held him tight.


	3. Chapter 3

Buffy ducked a blow from a big, lumbering demon that looked kind of like a bull, but instead of striking at its exposed flank, she did a flashy backflip. Spike smoothly moved in with a showy spin kick that made the itty-bitty skirt ride up, exposing his butt for a second along with….

Nope. No. Nuh-uh. She totally had _not_ just seen Spike’s balls, because Spike was a vampire, and vampires didn’t have balls. Except for Angel. And the few times when she’d used a kick between the legs to gain an advantage in a fight. But other than that, totally Ken dolls. Yep, absolutely.

Spike whirled around behind the bull demon and jumped up, hands on its shoulders and legs spread very wide for a moment before he wrapped his thighs around the demon’s neck. Oh boy. Not a Ken doll. _Seriously_ not a Ken doll. Guh…. She shook her head to clear it, then took several steps back before doing a tumble routine – quick enough to keep from flashing her own goodies – that ended with her punching the demon just as it passed out from Spike’s choke hold.

Spike rode the beast the down, then hopped up to his feet and, well, strutted a bit, though not for her benefit. She fought the urge to roll her eyes as he curled his tongue behind his teeth and flirted outrageously at the empty area where the audience would have been in an actual show arena. That’s basically what the gladiator events they were being trained for were. They weren’t completely fake like wrestling, but it was just as much about the showmanship as the fighting. Spike, of course, was taking to it all like a fish to water.

It had been a couple of days now since the big brawl. A few of the slavers had argued animatedly about the possibility of training her and Spike as pair fighters, while some of the others had waded through the downed slaves, removing the tags from several of them. Finally, the argument had stopped, and the two of them had each gotten a second tag attached to their collars. She didn’t know what had happened to the tagless slaves – though she suspected they’d just been taken back to the general training area – but all of those with at least one tag had ended up in a different part of the compound.

“Good,” their overseer grunted in approval as he beckoned them over. “Segikata-nen-karen-su.” It was her designation. The telepathic slug in Buffy’s head didn’t translate it out, but she knew it was the code for her home dimension, processing number, skillsets, and training regime. “Tomorrow, there will be high kicks.” He handed her a small bundle before turning his attention to Spike. “Segikata-fua-kara-su….”

 _High kicks,_ Buffy thought as she took her bundle over to the watering station. She was good at them, but she so did _not_ want to be doing high kicks in an outfit that didn’t include underwear. Not that she had any say in the matter. Arguing about it would just lead to “discipline” – jolts of pain from the slug – until she did what they wanted anyway. Obedience led to privileges and treats like the one in her bundle. So, as if whoring out her abilities as the Slayer for entertainment wasn’t bad enough, she’d be showing off her private parts to her trainers and, eventually, crowds of thousands.

She sniffed and angrily swiped away the moisture gathering at her eyes. God, she wanted to be _home_. Home, where her mother, magically all better now, would cuddle with her on the couch while they had popcorn and watched Thelma & Louise. And Dawnie would be there too, but no one would be after her because the ho in red had tripped in her ridiculous heels and snapped her neck, and, and….

She wanted a drink – being a slave was thirsty work – and she wanted her treat, damn it! She’d earned it. So she got a drink at the fountain, sat down on a bench next it, and opened up the bundle. There were two twinkie-sized loaves of soft, lightly sweetened bread filled with some sort of custard-y stuff.

A few moments later, Spike joined her on the bench, a lit cigarette in one hand and a lidded bowl in the other. She shuddered at the thought of what was in the bowl – an animal heart that had been frozen after extraction, then warmed and soaked in human blood for him – glad that she had a strong stomach. It was majorly of the grossness, but she’d be able to eat her snacks without barfing.

He watched her for a moment, looking like he was about to say something. Then he shook his head and just enjoyed his cigarette. Buffy did the same with her treat, the two of them sitting in companionable silence.

 

**...**

 

Rather than the general cattle yard they’d been in for the first week, the part of the slave complex housing gladiator trainees was a bit like a dormitory. There was a large common room with various types of seating, a communal dining area and showers, and rooms shared by two or three. Spike and Buffy had a room together, and that was where they retreated after the day’s training was over. It was a simple room with two cots, plus a loo and sink tucked away in something the size of a closet.

Buffy immediately dropped down onto her cot with a sigh, staring pensively up at the ceiling. Poor chit. Probably homesick, worried about her sickly mum, and not exactly chuffed over what was expected of her tomorrow. Not much Spike could do about the first two, but the last….

“They don’t give a crap about your knickers, or lack thereof,” he said bluntly as he sat down on his own cot. “The vamps and some of the more human looking demons might enjoy an ogle, but the trainers?” He shook his head. “We’ve the wrong body types for any of that lot but perverts to get their jollies from watching us.”

“Then why the skimpy outfits?” Buffy demanded, sitting up and glaring at him.

“Uniforms, so they can tell at a glance what a slave’s purpose is, and where they’re supposed to be.” She flinched a bit at the reminder of what they were now. “That’s what we are, pet. Slaves. Property. And property has no need for modesty. The only reason you’ve that breast band is so you don’t flop about during fights.”

“I don’t flop!” she huffed indignantly.

He could be reassuring and kind now, or he could twit the girl. A slow smirk was the answer to that. “No, you don’t, at that. Right perky pair of tits you’ve got.” He gave her a proper leer.

She screeched wordlessly and threw her pillow at him. He caught it easily, the pillow she rested her head on every night, imprinting it with her scent. Just barely holding back the urge to sniff it, he laid down and tucked it under his head.

“Hey, give that back,” the Slayer demanded, standing up and stalking the few feet over to his cot.

He glanced at her, then away. “Sorry, love, shouldn’t throw things you want to keep. ‘S mine now.”

He rolled over and pressed his face against it, pretending to sleep. Slow, deep breaths that caught her scent. God, it was wonderful. Sunlight and wildflowers and the spicy musk of Slayer, all mixed with the strange but pleasant scent of the soap stocked in the shower area. He had that scent about him as well. It was something they shared, and the thought of it sent shivers through him. It was the slimmest of silver linings, but it was there, and he focused on it, along with how good it felt to fight alongside her all regular like. If he let himself think about the slavery, it would overwhelm him. Drag him even deeper down than he’d been before the fighting had pulled him out of his funk.

Mustn’t think on it. Mustn’t dwell…. A stranger owning him, someone he hadn’t chosen holding his leash and commanding his every moment. Someone else in charge, laying claim to his very self, just like….

Warm fingers suddenly attacked his sides, tickling up along his ribs. Spike yipped in surprise and turned, giving Buffy an opening to grab back her pillow. Oh, no, she wasn’t winning that easily. He grabbed hold of one end of the pillow before she could scurry back to her cot.

“Give it!” Buffy snapped, giving the pillow a hard tug.

He tugged back. “Told you, Slayer, it’s mine now.”

They tugged back and forth for a moment until she gave it a good yank that was like to rip the bloody thing in half if he didn’t let go. Or…. Thinking very firmly about the fact that he was _not_ actively trying to harm her, Spike let himself be pulled off the cot, which ended with him crashing into her and knocking them both to the floor. He gazed down into her murderous glare. Flushed cheeks, blazing eyes, heartrate and breath both coming fast. Brassed off and beautiful.

She flipped them suddenly and smacked him across the face. Then she stuck her tongue out at him before getting up and taking her pillow back to her cot. Spike slowly reached up to touch his stinging cheek. God, what a woman.

 

**...**

 

She was back at home, in her room while soft, romantic music played. She walked, hips swaying, towards her bed and the blurry figure lying across it. Then she crawled onto the bed, feeling powerful and womanly as she gazed down at the man beneath her. She kissed him, and the cool lips were familiar, stirring memories of a spell and a wedding that hadn’t happened.

That wasn’t what she wanted, what she’d seen. She shivered and made her way down his body, lips, tongue, and even teeth working at his throat, making him moan. Down onto the toned chest, giving the nipples the same attention before moving down, nipping along the chiseled abs. Down, down, down. And there it was. The prize. Hidden behind a tiny leather skirt.

He spread his legs for her, and then it was her face between those pale thighs instead of a demon’s neck, and her mouth was exploring what she’d seen, tongue mapping out the contours. Oh god, the taste of him, the feel. And the breathy, needy sound of his voice as he called out her name –

Buffy’s eyes snapped open. She was on her cot in the room she shared with Spike, body aching with frustrated arousal. Oh god, she’d been having an erotic dream about _Spike_. It… wasn’t exactly the first time – that, embarrassingly enough, had happened when she’d fallen asleep in history class two days after he’d crashed parent-teacher night. Stupid hormones, and stupid sexy Spike, running his hand down his body while talking about feeling manly – but the dreams had never been quite so, uh, accurately detailed before.

She heard the sound that had dragged her out of sleep again. Spike, softly moaning her name. She peered over at the other cot, the moonlight coming in through the windows just bright enough to make out his sleeping form. What was he doing? It looked like he was twitching or maybe jerking against something. She squinted, and suddenly realized that Spike’s pillow – which he was lucky she hadn’t taken when she’d wrestled her own away from him – wasn’t under his head. It was…. Oh, _ew_! She quickly looked away, her cheeks heating in embarrassment… and renewed arousal.

Why was he dreaming about her instead of Dru? Or that skanky ditz, Harmony? _Probably for the same reason you were dreaming of him,_ she thought. They were stuck here together, wearing skimpy clothing most of the day. It was just how dreams worked. It didn’t really mean anything. Right?

 Okay. Okay, they were both adults, and getting weirded out by Spike would be kind of pot/kettle-y, considering her own dream. And as adults, they had certain… needs that they both had the right to take care of. So…. She settled more comfortably, her hand creeping down towards the wetness between her legs as she forced herself to think of Riley. He was her boyfriend, even if they were in different dimensions right now. Even if he could be kind of a jerk sometimes about the slaying.

She imagined that her hand was his, touching and teasing, stroking just the way she liked. But as she lay there, listening to Spike panting softly and murmuring her name, the image in her mind began to change. By the time her orgasm washed through her, it was Spike in her mind and his name on her lips.

She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she should be ashamed of herself. That she should feel dirty and wrong, but all she felt was satisfied and sleepy. And desperately grateful that she wasn’t in this all alone.

 

**...**

 

Her best friend was all alone in some strange dimension, but Willow couldn’t help the feeling of elated accomplishment as she stared at the dead snake monster thing in the street. She didn’t know why Giles had been so freaked out over the thing – you know, other than the whole big snake monster running loose dealie – but he’d ordered Anya to watch Dawn while practically shoving all the rest of them out to his car. Willow had done a guiding spell so they wouldn’t lose the monster, and then….

She grinned at Tara in delight, despite the chunks of giant snake splattered everywhere, including on them. They’d channeled their magic together, their very essences mingling in a way that had been, well, downright _magical_ , in every sense. Their combined powers had stopped the beastie in its tracks, and then they’d managed to blow it up. Tara looked a little dazed and kind of green around the edges, but Willow felt like she was on cloud nine. She wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and pulled her close, trailing kissing along her hairline.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured. “Giles said we had to stop it before it got wherever it was going, and we did.”

Why was that, anyway? They needed to find the woman in red, and if this monster was hers, it could have led them right to her. Why destroy it before it could do that? Willow frowned and opened her mouth to ask some questions, but Riley beat her to it.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, kicking at the largest chunk of snake monster. He and Xander had both gotten out of the car to investigate the remains as soon as they had stopped. “Why did this thing act like it was scared of Dawn?”

“It wasn’t afraid of her. It….” Giles sighed and slumped a bit in the driver’s seat. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, pulling out a miraculously clean handkerchief to wipe the gore off of his glasses. “Only gone for thirty minutes, and I already have to break Buffy’s trust.”

He told them, then, about what Dawn really was. A key meant to unlock other dimensions. A key made into a flesh and blood human sister for Buffy, who was trapped in another dimension. Ideas flitted through Willow’s head, some rejected and others put in a maybe folder inside her mind. She could do this. She knew she could do this. She’d figure out a way to use Dawn to pinpoint the dimension Buffy was in and open up a door into it. They’d have her safely back home before she had time to do more than smell the otherworldly flowers.


	4. Chapter 4

Buffy was sore and exhausted when she got back to their room after training, but instead of sprawling across her cot like she wanted to, she grabbed a bottle of lotion. The first time their trainers had kept them out in the sun all day, Spike had been as red as a boiled lobster and obviously in pain. If he’d somehow managed to get a sunburn back in Sunnydale without, you know, actually bursting into flame and turning to dust, she’d probably have smacked him along the most painful looking area, shot off a one-liner, and gone on her way. Here, though…. Well, she’d done what she could to ease the discomfort a bit. In return, without her even asking, he’d massaged her shoulders and feet. It had become their routine over the past couple of months.

And even though she was tired from the new moves they’d been working on, she wanted to stick to that routine. It helped keep her mind off of their situation. Besides, it had been a particularly sunny day without much in the way of cloud cover. Spike would be fine in a few hours – leaving nothing but the freckles he’d developed across his cheeks and shoulders as evidence of the effects of long hours under the sun – but she didn’t like the thought of him in pain if she could do anything about it. Especially when doing something about it meant her hands gliding over that toned body, feeling the tenseness gradually fade away as he relaxed under her and….

 _Whoa, that’s enough of that. Bad Buffy brain,_ she scolded. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and turned around, only to find Spike right there behind her instead of sitting on his cot. _Okay, somebody seriously needs a bell or something,_ she thought, taking a step back. He reached out towards her and grabbed the bottle of lotion, his fingers brushing hers as he pulled it from her hand. A tingly feeling seemed to travel from her fingers straight to her nipples before heading down south. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, like the moisture had all decided to follow that tingle. Stupid hormonal body. Stupid sexy vampire.

“You first, Slayer,” he said, the look in his eyes making it clear he could smell exactly what his touch had done to her. The whole smelling thing was majorly gross and should have been a complete turnoff, but, somehow, it wasn’t. “And no arguing about it this time. You deserve pampering today.”

“Huh?” she said, sounding super-duper intelligent. Oh god, had her brain melted and leaked out her ears while she wasn’t looking?

Spike tilted his head, smiling slightly as he studied her. “Don’t know what day it is, do you, pet?”

She frowned in confusion, but before she could ask him what he was talking about, he took her hand and led her towards her cot. Once she was sitting down, he got behind her and started working on her shoulders, his cool hands both gentle and firm at the same time. His fingers ghosted along her flesh, stroking lightly while his palms alternated pressure between the ball and heel. Then he used his thumbs, and oh, oh, her brain really _did_ leak out for a moment or something as she turned into a mindless beast moaning in pleasure.

Spike laughed softly and rested his forearm along her right shoulder where it met her neck. She knew what this was. She turned her head to the side, away from him, then let it drop as he twisted his arm and slid it down her shoulder. He did the neck release twice more on that side, then moved to her other side and performed it three more times. Then he was massaging her back again, alternating firm strokes and compressions with kneading her like bread dough. She felt kind of like bread dough. All gooey and blob-like. Guh.

Eventually, he stopped and got off the cot to sit on the floor near the end, which was her cue to stretch out on her back. He worked on her feet then, using his thumbs and knuckles to temporarily send her to happy foot heaven.

“How do you know how to do all this?” she asked. She felt vaguely guilty that she never had before, though, to be fair, she usually went second when it came to the rubdowns, and was usually too tired to ask anything at all.

“Ate a masseuse once,” he answered flippantly. “Guess it just sort of came in through the blood.” Okay, she totally shouldn’t have found that funny, but she found herself giggling anyway. Spike paused for a moment at that, then kept going, rubbing each individual toe.

“You remember when I first came to Sunnydale? When Dru was so sickly?”

She nodded, then remembered that he couldn’t see from where he was. “Yeah.”

“She’d seize up sometimes, her muscles going rigid, hard as stone. Nothing I could do during, but after, she’d be in so much pain…. Found someone to teach me how to relax her muscles, work the knots out.”

Buffy froze at his words. It was one thing to stupidly giggle at the thought of learning something by eating someone, but this….

“And then you killed the person who taught you?” She fought the urge to pull away from him. He was all she had, damn it! She couldn’t let something from the past drive them apart.

“’Course I didn’t,” Spike said, sounding annoyed. “Taught me right proper, she did, and I paid her for it. Not some brainless nit what goes about killing or stiffing the hired help. All that does is give a bloke a bad reputation and makes it hard to hire anyone with a lick of sense.”

Huh. Well, that was… something anyway. But now the mood between them was spoiled. Buffy sat up and looked at him, trying to think of something to lighten things a bit. “You said I didn’t know what day it is,” she reminded him. “What day is it?”

He stood up without answering and went over to his own cot. _Great job, Buffy,_ she thought sourly as she sat up, mad at both herself and him. He had no right to be all sulky because she’d made a completely logical assumption. And why the hell was she letting herself get so attached to him? He was a _vampire_. He ate people. Or had, until the chip. _The chip…._ She’d always thought it was kind of evil, putting pain chips into vampires instead of cleanly staking them. Now that she had this slug in her head, keeping her from fighting her way free, she was even more convinced it was evil. But….

Her thoughts were interrupted by Spike pulling something out from under his pillow. He eyed her, looking almost shy, then swore, ran a hand through his tousled, two-toned curls, and thrust the under-the-pillow thing at her. She took it automatically and stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing for a moment. Was that… a stuffed piggy? It was sort of lumpy and made from the same fuzzy beige fabric as their blankets. Buttons had been sewn in for eyes and the mouth and nostrils were represented by black thread. Had Spike made it? Why would he…?

“It’s not very good, I know. Didn’t have a lot to work with,” he said defensively. “It’s just… I….” He trailed off, then blurted out, “Happy birthday, Buffy.”

Happy birthday? What? Had it really been that long? Oh god, it had. She’d missed Thanksgiving and Christmas with her mom and sister. Were they even still alive? Had the brain surgery gone okay? Was Dawn still safe, or did Glory have her? Tears filled Buffy’s eyes and she sniffled. She was twenty now, and the only person sharing it with her was a vampire she was supposed to have a mutually loathing relationship with.

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered. “Knew it was awful.”

He darted forward like he was going to grab the stuffed toy, but she shook her head and clutched the piggy against her chest. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “No, I love it. I just…. _Why_?” It came out as a plaintive wail.

None of it made any sense. He hated her. Why would he remember her birthday (or even know when it was for that matter) and make something for her? She wanted to blame it on them being stuck as slaves with only each other to rely on, but the only reason he was even in this mess was because he’d followed her through the portal and had tried to get her back home instead of escaping on his own.

“Just thought you deserved something for your birthday, is all,” he said, fidgeting and staring down at the ground.

“Not just that.” She gently, carefully, set her gift down on her pillow before standing up. “All of it. You’ve been nice to me. Even before we ended up in this dimension. I want to know why.” He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and kept staring at the ground. “Now!” she demanded.

He looked up at her then, a trapped look in his eyes like a deer in the headlights. “Don’t need a reason, do I? I’m my own man, you know, can do whatever the bloody hell I like. Helpin’ out the Slayer when we’re mortal enemies and all? Just the sort of contrary sod I am, is all. Nothin’ to do with you, really.”

He was a weird enough vampire that she could almost believe him. Almost. She narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him. He actually backed away from her, so she took another step, driving him along until his back was against the wall.

“Is this some kind of game? Or a trick? Get the Slayer to depend on you, then leave me in the lurch once I trust you?” _Once I trust you…._ She realized suddenly that she already kind of did. That she sort of had ever since the truce, when she’d invited him into her home. She’d never revoked that invitation, not even after he’d shown up to have cocoa and a cry with her mom and Dawn.

“That’s not my style, and you know it, Summers,” Spike snapped, several emotions playing out across his expressive face all at once. Anger, hurt, despair, like she’d kicked his puppy, peed on it, and then told him it was all his fault. “I don’t play those kinds of mind games.”

“Then what is all this, Spike? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m a completely sack of hammers ponce what’s gone and fallen in love with you, you daft bint!” he shouted.

Buffy’s mind went completely blank for a moment before a little voice in the back of her head insisted, v _ampires can’t love._ She desperately wanted to keep believing that, to cling to it as an excuse for why Angel hadn’t loved her without a soul, but she couldn’t. Not after the reminder of what Spike and Dru had had. They had loved each other, and she’d used that love against him. She still remembered the fear in his eyes when she’d held the stake to Drusilla’s chest. It was kind of like the look in them now. He was terrified of what he’d just admitted. No, she realized, he was terrified of her _reaction_ to what he’d just admitted.

His mouth opened, probably so he could take back what he’d said, but she buried her hand in his hair and pulled his head down just a little so she could steal the words with a kiss. Cool and firm and soft, just like she remembered from Willow’s spell. And unresponsive at first, but then he opened up to her, returning the kiss like he was going to devour her or somehow pour himself inside.

 _What are you_ doing _?_ her mind shrieked at her as she pulled away, both of them breathing hard, even though she was the only one who actually needed air. _Evil sexy vampire that kisses like a god is still_ evil _! And, and what about Riley?_

Spike really hadn’t been all that evil lately. Unlike the brain slugs which could be given new parameters at any time, his chip was fixed. No physical harm to humans. There was actually a lot of wiggle room there, and Spike was smart enough to have realized that. Hell, he’d figured out he could throw punches at her as long as he didn’t intend for them to hit. And as for Riley….

Well, she’d been missing for a little over two months now. Everyone in Sunnydale probably thought she was dead. He’d mourn and move on. She couldn’t just cling to the memory of their relationship, especially since the shiny had kind of been starting to wear off. Riley’s growing and constant need for reassurance about his manliness hadn’t exactly been an attractive trait. Neither had his pouting whenever a family or slaying thing had come up.

“Buffy?” Spike’s voice was unsteady, and the fear was still there in his eyes, along with guarded hope and vulnerability.

She knew what she should do. She should say it had been a mistake and go back to her cot and pretend to sleep. It was what she should do… but she didn’t want to. She wanted to…. She just _wanted_ , and there was no one to judge her for it or tell her she was wrong. All the dreams she’d been having and the tantalizing glimpses under that skirt during training…. And he was right here, ready and wanting just as much as she was.

 _Very_ ready and very wanting. She could feel him against her through their barely there skirts. All she’d have to do was just wiggle a little bit, rise up on her toes just right, and he’d be…. She shivered and swallowed at the thought of it, her entire body tingling and aching with need. He was probably feeling the same, all because she’d kissed him. It… it would be cruel and unusual to just leave him like that, right?

But…. She imagined Giles’s tight-lipped look of disapproval as he polished his glasses, and Xander’s anger and disgust. Willow would try to be understanding, but her face would crinkle up into that _look_. The one that said, “I want to be a good friend, but I can’t believe you’re doing this with another vampire.” But he wasn’t just another vampire. He was Spike, who had been kind to her and was her only friend here. And who was, quite frankly, a major hottie.

Throwing caution to the wind and letting go of the dos and don’ts of Sunnydale, Buffy kissed him again. This was a different world with different rules. A world where she was just another slave, and so was Spike. She put aside that other world and lost herself in his willing embrace.

 

**...**

_Dear Diary,_ Dawn wrote. _Mom has to stay in the hospital for a while, and Buffy and Spike went missing last night. I got to talk to Mom for a bit._ She set aside her pen to wipe at her eyes before any more tears could fall on the page. _She has cancer. But the doctors say she has a really good chance, and when I went to bed, Willow was researching ways to get Buffy and Spike back. I know that, because she and Tara spent the night here._

_Everybody’s been really nice to me, except for Riley, which is kind of weird. I mean, he was being nice too yesterday, but then after they all went after the majorly yucktastic snake monster, he gave me this look like I’d just farted in his Wheaties or something. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, and I won’t, other than you, Diary, but when Riley gets in these moods, Buffy calls it PMS. Pissy Man Syndrome._

Thinking about it made Dawn giggle and sniffle at the same time. She wanted her sister back and her mom all better. She wanted to sit around with both of them, eating ice cream and talking about boys. But that couldn’t happen right now. She rubbed at her eyes again and continued writing.

 _Anyway, I should be in first period right now, but Giles said last night that he’d call the school and let them know I have a family crisis going on right now. Like I said, everyone has been really nice to me, and Tara even offered to take me with her to her morning classes. Giles offered to drive._ Speaking of which, he would probably be there soon, so it was definitely time to change out of her jammies. Even as she thought that, she heard someone come in the front door. _Gotta go, Diary. I **know** Mom and Buffy are going to be okay. Spike, too._

Dawn closed up her diary and hurried to get dressed. The shirt she’d chosen to wear was halfway over her head when she thought she heard the front door open and close again. Huh, that was weird. Had someone gone outside, or was it someone else? Maybe Riley or Xander coming by to check on her? She finished getting dressed and headed out of her room, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to listen to the conversation in progress.

“Where is it?” Riley asked. He was leaning against the door, looking grim as he faced Willow, Tara, and Giles.

“It? What it?” Willow asked back, exchanging confused looks with Tara.

“That _thing_ pretending to be Buffy’s sister. The key.”

Dawn froze, not even breathing for a moment. Thing? _Pretending_ to be Buffy’s sister? What… what was he talking about? He wasn’t making any sense. Everyone was arguing now, but the words barely registered, though she was vaguely aware that Giles and her two favorite witches were standing up for her.

“No, she’s _not_ just an innocent teenage girl!” Riley shouted. “You said it yourself, Giles, she’s the key that woman is after. She’s a blob of energy that was formed into a girl and inserted into our lives against our wills.”

“No,” Dawn said quietly. Then, louder, “ _No_!” Everyone looked up at her. “You’re wrong! You have to be wrong.” Stricken looks from Willow and Tara. Guilt from Giles. “Tell him he’s wrong!”

“Dawnie, sweetie…”

Before Tara could finish her sentence, Dawn turned and fled back to her room.


	5. Chapter 5

Riley drove through the morning streets of Sunnydale in his SUV, quietly fuming. Didn’t any of them realize how dangerous the key was? What, did they really think it was just a coincidence that Joyce had ended up with a brain tumor after the thing had been forced into their lives? _We probably all have tumors from being around it,_ he thought, sickened by the realization.

He looked over his shoulder as he prepared to change lanes, gaze lingering for a moment on the large dog crate he’d managed to fit in the back after putting the seats down. It was, unfortunately, empty. His plan had been to contain the key and call in the military, but the others were still clinging to the belief that Dawn was just a normal human girl. In fact, after the girls had gone upstairs to calm the key down, Giles had threatened to call the police if Riley tried anything. Like _he_ was the bad guy here. He’d also made it clear that if the military was called in, none of the them would back him up in his claims about the girl.

He couldn’t really blame any of them for how they were acting. They’d all spent more time around Dawn than he had, being poisoned by whatever subterrestrial energies she – _it,_ he reminded himself – was giving off. They’d become obsessed with taking care of the obscene thing. That was why Joyce and Buffy were always worried about Dawn having a babysitter when any normal girl her age would have _been_ a babysitter. And it explained Buffy doing things like ditching their plans – which okay, yeah, had just been vague ones about hanging out together, but still – to take her “sister” out shopping for school supplies.

Buffy never would have blown him off like that for a _real_ little sister. Her emotions and memories were being manipulated. It was almost like what Walsh had done to him, playing around in his innards, adding and removing as she had seen fit. But this had been done to the very core of Buffy’s self.

She and Joyce had been forced to love the cuckoo shoved into the nest. A sudden thought struck him. If emotions had been added, could some have been taken away or suppressed? Was that why Buffy had started pulling away from him? Why she’d told that goddamn vampire about her mother’s illness before she’d said anything to him?

Rage flashed through him at the memory of yesterday morning, looking for Buffy only to find Hostile 17 pawing through his girl’s room and sniffing at her things like some kind of deranged animal. _I shouldn’t have tossed him that blanket. I should have just let the fucker fry…._

Riley took a deep breath and slowly let it out, his fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel. He couldn’t think about that right now. One problem at a time, and right now, that problem was Dawn. Okay. Okay, so it looked like it was going to be all up to him. He could do this. He’d get a hold of a Geiger counter and take some readings. And he’d take some blood, hair, and tissue samples. He could send them to one of his contacts in the military. Graham, most likely. He would tell him they were from an unknown hostile that very likely posed a serious threat to the country. Maybe even the entire world. With that proof, they’d have to believe him and would help him get her contained.

And, if need be, destroyed.

 

**…**

 

Dawn stared at the destruction of her room, feeling numb. She’d done it all herself, ripping pages out of her journals, throwing her clothes all over the floor, tearing the limbs off of her stuffed animals. She was just a _thing_ , she didn’t need any of that stuff. Only people needed stuff. Or sisters. Or healthy moms. Or…. She sobbed and threw herself on the bed.

She was vaguely aware of Willow and Tara calling out to her from the other side of her door, asking her to let them in, but all she really heard were Riley’s words, echoing in her mind. He’d said she was just a blob of energy. A key. What did that even _mean_? She sat up and stared at her hands. They looked human. Four fingers and a thumb on each hand. A unique pattern of whirls and ridges that only belonged to Dawn Summers.

Dawn Summers…. Who or what _was_ Dawn Summers? She’d thought she was just a more or less normal kid with a drama queen superhero for a sister. Buffy was all weird and stuff, but at least she was _human_. Dawn’s gaze traveled down to her wrists and the blue traceries of veins. Was the blood in there real? Would she die if it all spilled out? Energy didn’t need blood.

The door suddenly opened, even though she’d locked it, and Willow came into the room with Tara right behind.

“Go away,” she demanded, knowing she sounded like a whiny little kid but not really caring. “Leave me a–”

Willow murmured something in another language, and suddenly, everything felt peaceful and still. Dawn smiled up at Tara’s worried frown. Poor Tara. Didn’t she know there was nothing to worry about? Everything was going to be just fine.

 

**...**

 

“Seriously? Now? You want to talk about this _now_?” Buffy asked incredulously.

In the nine or so months that they’d had… whatever it was they had between them, she’d never really been comfortable with Spike’s demands that they actually define their feelings and relationship and talk about them.

Well, okay, maybe not _demands_ , exactly, but he wanted to know where they stood and to talk about their feelings. All that girly stuff the romcoms all said _she_ was supposed to want and seriously didn’t. And even if she had, in the middle of a festival arena with a saber-toothed yaktopus thundering towards them was _so_ not the time and place for it.

“Yeah, now,” Spike insisted from behind her, his hands settling on her hips.

He lifted her smoothly into the air and tossed her straight up. The crowd roared its approval as she tucked herself into a midair flip, and, for a moment, she lost herself in the pleasure of their admiration. It was kind of like figure skating, cheerleading, and slaying all wrapped into one, and as much as she hated being a slave, performing like this with Spike made her feel more alive than she had for a long time.

She landed on the yaktopus – which was actually called something that sounded like someone trying to gargle while coughing up a hairball – just barely keeping her balance as it bucked and twisted, trying to throw her off. Luckily, she knew how to stay on. Their trainer had made sure they were familiar with the things before they’d started going on tour a month ago, basically doing ritual animal sacrifices at various fairgrounds during a month-long religious festival.

This region of whatever dimension this was apparently had things like this all the time, and the gladiator events were a big part of it. They provided entertainment by fighting each other and killing the yaktopuses (yaktopi?) that would be roasted up on a bonfire in the evening.

Buffy’s mouth watered at the thought, and she was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all. She had been a slave for nearly a year now and was balancing on the back of a shaggy, fanged yak monster with a cluster of shoulder tentacles while contemplating the plural form of the made-up name she’d given it. And she was actually looking forward to eating the thing, despite its major BO problem, all while trying to avoid talking about her feelings with her… whatever Spike was.

Then the vampire himself was up there with her, sitting astride Mr. Yaktopus and grabbing at the tentacles. Right, show time now, deep thoughts and relationship talk could wait. Or not, since Spike didn’t seem to agree with that idea.

“May have escaped your notice, Buffy, but this isn’t just another showcase arena,” he said, voice tight and sounding almost afraid. The stenchtastic wonder bucked suddenly, and Spike swore before yanking viciously on the tentacles. “It’s a bloody auction.”

“Yeah,” she said with a grunt as she started up a handstand now that Spike had the beastie sort of under control. Her barely there skirt was even less there for it, of course, but she refused to let it bother her. The demons had control of her body because of the damn slug, but they couldn’t control how she _felt_ about her body, damn it! “I’d kind of already figured that out.”

Both the crowd and the arena itself were different from normal. Nowhere near as many kid demons, and the adults all seemed sort of fancier than usual. And there were no slaves watching during a free moment gifted by their owners.

The main part of the arena was the same as all the others, but there was a holding cell attached, already half full of slaves with the custom tags of their new owners. It was why he was pushing and why she was being even more avoid-o girl than normal. They’d been trained as pair fighters, but there was no guarantee they’d be sold that way.

“I just wanna know what the bloody hell I am to you! Is that really so much to ask?”

Despite the argument, they both knew their parts. When they did this particular move, he was supposed to reach back and grip her thighs while she bent her legs at the knee and rested them on his shoulders. He hit his cue perfectly, and she bent her elbows a little and pushed off against the still running beast’s back while clenching her abdominal muscles tight. For a moment, she was actually sitting on his head before sliding down and leaning forward over the yaktopus’s. It left her privates right in front of his face, and, usually – evil, sexy thing that he was – Spike couldn’t resist giving a lick. This time, he didn’t, which, more than anything, proved how upset he was.

Damn it. She wanted to reassure him. To tell him that she didn’t do casual, so it all meant _something_ , but the words wouldn’t come out. She was scared, too. If you accepted and named a thing, it went away. She’d trusted and loved her dad, and he’d gone away. She’d given herself to Angel, had named them lovers, and he’d become Angelus. When she’d taken him back and named him boyfriend, she’d only ended up losing him again. Even Giles, she’d named him father, only to find out that he was poisoning her. All her friends and family now, even the town she thought of home, were all gone, though she’d been the one forced to leave in this case. She was terrified that if she said Spike was more than her partner, he would be yanked away from her too.

But there was no time to explain that, now. The show had to go on and all that. She moved forward and twisted so she was sitting on the yak monster’s head while facing Spike, her legs only inches from its fangs as she clenched them firmly to hold her in place. She laced her fingers together in front of her, holding them down so Spike, standing now, could use her as a springboard to do an aerial somersault over the front of the beast. While it was distracted by him, Buffy scrambled along the bucking back and went over the side, clinging like a monkey as she pulled out her knife – kept in an arm sheath and only allowed because the slug prevented her from using it to harm anything but the yaktopus – and stabbed it into the soft underbelly.

There was a loud crack from near the head, and its bellow of pain and rage was abruptly cut off. Bled and killed after a life of being a pampered beast bred specifically to honor demon gods and be devoured by fairgoers. Better than some fates, really. But philosophy had to wait if she didn’t want to get crushed. Timing things just right, she sheathed the knife before leaping away and into a tumble routine that ended with her bowing to the crowd. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye showed Spike doing the same thing from on top of the corpse, his white-tipped caramel curls fluttering slightly in the breeze. God, he was beautiful. And she could lose him.

That thought left her numb and dazed until the auctioneer finally announced, “Sold as a unit to Lady Sasszan!”

Sold as a unit? _Oh, thank God,_ she thought, her knees feeling a little weak as she and Spike were led into the holding area with the other sold slaves. Tags were added to their collars while a blue lizard woman with a feathery, pinkish-purple mohawk looked them over.

“I’ll call that one Senka,” she said, looking at Spike. The slug in Buffy’s head let her know it meant graceful warrior. “And the female will be Rehva.”

Buffy already knew that one. It was a grayish lavender flower with deadly thorns. The blossoms – minus the thorns – got thrown down into the arena as gifts during the fights sometimes. Senka and Rehva. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. This woman could own them and rename them like dogs, but that didn’t make them dogs. She was Buffy Anne Summers, no matter what their “owner” thought, and someday, she’d be free.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a forced medical procedure that is very disturbing. 
> 
> If you've read this story elsewhere, this is the point where one of the character arcs changes. I was pressured into changing my original plans for Willow's arc in the first version of this and am now restoring it to my original vision for the story.

“Mrow?”

Willow put down the book she’d been looking through with a sigh and gathered Miss Kitty into her arms. “At least somebody appreciates me,” she muttered glumly. She held the cat close as she flopped back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She’d just been trying to help, to give poor Dawnie a reprieve from all the confusion and fear. The girl had ripped up her journals and stuffed toys in a fit of hysteria or something. Hospitals gave people sedatives for things like that all the time, so what had been so wrong with Willow temporarily blocking the bad feelings? Tara had said that Dawn needed to work through them, but it was the same argument she’d been given by her friends for the whole Oz thing.

And, yeah, okay, her spell for that had ended up going pretty badly — she shuddered at the memory of Buffy and Spike being all lovey-dovey — but it would have gone perfectly if it had actually done what she’d intended. No more pain and misery to “work through.” She’d just wanted to give Dawn that, even if only for a day or so. But Tara had been so upset, and Willow had given in and undone the spell right away.

Fat lot of good that had done. Dawn had stared at her with a look of utter betrayal and had screamed at her, yelling at her to get out while throwing damaged toys at her head. She’d pretty much fled at that point, going to the Magic Box for some kind of comfort and to help with the research into getting Buffy back.

She’d expected Giles to understand what she’d done. To maybe praise her quick thinking in dealing with Dawn’s hysterics. But, no. He’d just given her that tight-lipped look of disapproval and a lecture on how she couldn’t “play about with other people’s emotions.” So now here she was, hanging out in the dorm she shared with Tara, alone except for Miss Kitty Fantastico and the books she’d taken from the Magic Box.

Speaking of which….

She sat back up and gave the cat one more ear scritch before putting her down and picking the book back up. This particular tome had a nice table of contents with a brief summary of each spell, all of them having to do with time, space, or other dimensions. She continued scanning through it. Nope. Nope. Nope. There was one that seemed like it would maybe be useful, but not for this. Several spells for opening portals to specific dimensions. Which would have been useful if they knew what dimension Buffy had ended up in.

She turned the page, then froze for a moment after reading the first few words of the second spell summary. _Opening a portal to an unspecified dimension through the use of an empowered object connected to something on the other side._

She excitedly flipped to the listed page and read over the list of spell components and instructions. Most of the things she either already had or could figure out a substitute for. The only problem was going to be the empowered object itself. A personal possession like Mr. Gordo could work, but it would take weeks to power it up enough. Maybe….

Dawn would work. She’d been created as Buffy’s sister, was presumably full of magical energy, and had the added bonus of actually being a dimensional key.

Willow jumped up off the bed and started gathering up everything she’d need for the spell. She’d go to the house, and once she told Dawn and Tara about it all, they wouldn’t be mad anymore. They’d be proud of her and would….

She slowed, taking her time as she selected a substitute for one of the components. What if, instead of going back with the spell, she went back with Buffy? She was one of Buffy’s best friends, and she had a lot of power at her disposal. What if she used herself as the connected empowered object?

She bit her lip, mulling things over, then started setting everything up on the floor where she and Tara usually worked magic together. A candle at each of the cardinal points. A small silver bowl of water, along with four others for the herbs and powders. A brazier for burning the herbs at the right time.

She took a deep breath before sitting down in the center of everything. She lit the candles and brazier, then began reading out loud from the book. She could feel the power building with each word, could feel something starting to happen as she channeled it through herself as the empowered object. It was working! She’d be —

Then the book burst into purple flame and everything went dark.

 

**...**

 

Strolling through the market with Buffy’s hand in his and the familiar weight of his coat on his shoulders, Spike could almost forget he was a slave. Almost, but not quite. The warm sun was a reminder that they weren’t in their own dimension, and the coat — apparently sold to their owner along with the two of them and their other belongings — was in direct contact with his skin since he was wearing it with nothing but his collar, boots, and gladiator skirt. A breeze stirred through the air, blowing another reminder of their slavery into his face.

He cursed in annoyance and used his free hand to shove back the strands of hair that had escaped the ponytail.  After a year and a half in this dimension, the bloody stuff went down past his shoulders. When they’d been unsold slaves, they hadn’t been allowed to make any alterations to themselves. As a sold slave, he’d been flat out forbidden to cut his hair, due to some sort of bizarre obsession these mohawked lizard people seemed to have with long, curly hair. Over half of their owner’s human house slaves had it.

Buffy, the cheeky thing, grinned at him. “Well, here’s a silver lining. If we end up stuck here long enough, we can always act out Rapunzel if we get bored.”

“Only if it’s the cleaned-up version, love,” he said with a snort. “Don’t imagine you’d fancy getting your eyes poked out by thorns, and birthing twins,” he smirked and curled his tongue behind his teeth as he ran his hand down his bare torso, “could ruin my girlish figure.”

Buffy’s mouth opened for more banter, but quickly closed as she focused on something off to the side, her cheeks turning bright red. Spike followed her line of sight and couldn’t help laughing. All they’d gotten up to together, and she could still be so adorably innocent at times.

“Shut up,” she muttered, lightly shoving him and staring at the ground.

They’d been to markets that catered to slaves before, but those had all been geared specifically towards gladiators. Now that festival season was over for the next five months, they were visiting a market specifically designed for house slaves, though anyone could shop there. Like gladiators, house slaves tended to have their own money, due to rewards for good behavior rather than coins flung down at them in the arena. Unlike gladiators, they tended to be human, and their markets were full of things humans liked. Including the delightfully naughty things humans liked. His innocent little Slayer had discovered a shop with all sorts of kinks on display.

“Come on,” Buffy said, kicking uncomfortably at the ground. “Let’s try to find those herbs and spices you’ve been wanting to experiment with while we’ve got down time.”

The water in this place had a strange, tangy aftertaste and a slightly slimy mouthfeel, making a decent cuppa a near impossibility. Spike hadn’t completely given up, though, and he still had hope for a good curry. He’d already found a rice substitute just by charming the kitchen girls in their owner’s gladiator house into letting him poke about. Not that he actually needed either tea or curry, being a vampire and all, but that hadn’t changed the bloody fact he was English, and damn if he was going to let slavery make any difference to the things he liked.

“Right, then. Carise said there was a good spice shop near here that might have what I need.” Carise was no more the girl’s original name than Senka was his or Rehva was Buffy’s, but it was the only name she’d use. “We can —”

He was cut off by the buggering breeze blowing those sodding loose strands into his mouth. Bloody hell! He growled and yanked the rest of his hair free from the ponytail and tried to force it all back into some semblance of control. Not exactly the first time he’d ever sported this particular hairstyle, but it had been nearly a century. A fella tended to forget a thing or two in that amount of time.

“Here, let me,” Buffy offered, circling behind him.

He let his hands drop down to his sides as she dug her fingers into his hair. They were warm against his scalp and lingered there for a long moment before she began to slowly finger comb the unruly curls. He shivered slightly, his eyes fluttering closed. If it meant more of this, the sodding mess could misbehave as much as it wanted. Eventually, though, she pulled it all back into a tight ponytail, then stepped away from him, putting some distance between them. 

“Come on, let’s go get those spices,” she said, turning and heading off towards a likely looking market stall.

Spike glanced wistfully over his shoulder at the sex shop before following her. They weren’t exactly vanilla, but not really kinky either. Hell, it had been over a year since her first birthday in this dimension, and she still got shy at times about physical affection, especially in public. But today, she’d held his hand and now she was doing this. Maybe that meant, someday, she’d be up for a bit more.

 

**...**

 

“… blnnga… wrnnng…shobke….”

Willow struggled towards consciousness, forcing her eyes open as she tried to understand the words she was hearing. Some part of her brain recognized that they were English, but she couldn’t seem to actually process them.

“Shink ackning plnp.”

She blinked a few times, a blurry blob forming into Tara’s beloved face. She looked worried, upset, and relieved all at the same time. “Tara?” Her tongue felt thick and strange as she said the word, and she wasn’t even entirely sure she’d said it.

“Naln bou gkan?”

Willow blinked again. “Huh?” She blinked more, then worked on sitting up. She was in bed. The last she remembered, she’d been attempting a spell to get Buffy back.

“Are you okay?” Tara asked, her words suddenly making sense as Willow fully woke up.

“I… what happened?”

Giles suddenly came into view, holding a damaged book, and Willow’s heart sank. “You did something very foolish,” he snapped. “What did you think you were playing at, trying a spell from this book by yourself?”

“I, I was just…. I thought I could get Buffy….” She glanced back and forth between Giles and Tara. He looked so angry, and Tara…. Worried, upset, and relieved, though the upset seemed to be winning out over the rest. “What,” she swallowed to wet her suddenly dry throat, “what happened?”

“I c-came back to the dorm last night,” Tara stammered, looking down.

Last night? It was already the next day? How long had she been out?

“You….”

“She found you unconscious on the floor,” Giles cut in when Tara faltered. “As it appeared to be magically induced rather than medical, she called me.” He held up the book. “I had been spending the entire evening looking for this. And now it and the necessary spell are damaged beyond repair.”

Everything seemed to spin for a moment as Willow stared at the book. She’d seen it in his hands when he first started in on her, but it hadn’t really registered what it must be. Oh, gods. The book. She’d destroyed the book. Her mouth started feeling too wet, like she was going to throw up.

“Is… is there another way?”

“Most likely, but finding them will be difficult. Our best course of action will be to find another copy. Luckily, I know someone who has one. It will take a few days to get here.”

A few days? Willow swallowed hard. A few days wasn’t too bad. Buffy was tough. She could handle just a few more days in another dimension. Right?

 

**...**

 

Buffy paced the small room, angry and nervous and really wishing she could hit someone. Like the two big, hairy demons — she thought of them as Thing One and Thing Two — standing near the door, acting like they were better than her, even though they were slaves, too. They just happened to be overseers and to have power over all the others, including the gladiator class.

The bastards had dragged her away from Spike at the crack of dawn, forced her to scrub down in a bath hot enough to turn her into a lobster, and then had taken her to wherever this was. They hadn’t answered any of her questions, but she had a sick feeling that she knew exactly what was going on.

She hugged herself tightly, remembering the morning after the trip to the market with Spike. It had been a week ago, now, and she’d been called to the main house to meet with Lady Sasszan. Their owner had wanted to know how many of her powers would pass on to any children. Buffy had told her, truthfully and with as much respect as she could manage so she wouldn’t be brain zapped, that being a slayer was a mystical calling and couldn’t be passed on.

“You aren’t going to get any super powered babies out of me, you know,” she said, for about the fifth time. Like before, they just laughed at her, the assholes. “I mean it. It doesn’t matter what guy you have off looking at porn or whatever to get ready, being the Slayer isn’t hereditary. Lady Sasszan already knows that. Did you guys just not get the memo about this?”

God, no wonder they were laughing at her. She sounded like a frightened little girl. Hell, she _felt_ like a frightened little girl. Except that when she’d actually been one, minus the frightened part, she’d wanted the two-point-five kids ideal.

When she’d found out what she was, she hadn’t been certain she’d live long enough to even worry about it. But then she’d just kept surviving, and there had been Riley, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d thought maybe she’d think about it once she graduated college. But now Riley was gone and college was gone, and she was a slave. This was so not the kind of situation to bring a child into.

Thing One snickered again and turned to Thing Two. “No wonder she’s a gladiator. Too stupid for anything else.”

“If she wasn’t as ugly as any other human, she could alway-”

The door opened and an orange lizard woman poked her head in. “The operating room is ready. Bring the human.”

“What? Operating room? Why is there an operating room?” Buffy demanded, her voice high and panicked as one of the overseers grabbed her by the arm. She tried to dig in her heels and resist, but gave it up when the brain slug sent out a warning jolt. “What’s going on?”

The overseers just laughed more until the nurse, or whatever she was, looked over her shoulder at them with an annoyed glare. Or at least that’s what Buffy thought it was. She wasn’t that great at reading lizard faces, so for all she knew, it could mean she was constipated or had gas. Either way, the two demons assigned to get her where she was going and keep her safe stopped being assholes. For the moment anyway.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Rehva,” the nurse said as they continued down the hall. “This is a very common procedure for dealing with that bleeding issue you humans have, and the doctor has done thousands of them. Only the main body of the womb will be removed, so your hormones should stay within normal levels.”

Buffy went numb for a moment, the nurse’s words a meaningless jumble of sound, as if the slug just hadn’t bothered to translate this time. Then they sank in. _Main body of the womb…._ _Oh god, no. No, no, no._ That couldn’t mean what she thought it meant. It couldn’t. They weren’t going to, to _spay_ her like a dog they didn’t want breeding or dribbling blood on the carpet. Heat and chills tingled through her in waves, and she felt like she was going to throw up, despite not eating or drinking since before bed last night.

She stopped moving, ignoring the little jolts going through her head as the overseers tried to drag her forward. “No,” she said, shaking her head and trying to pull away. “No, no, no. You can’t….”

She had to get out of there. Had to get away. She couldn’t let them…. She didn’t know if she wanted kids at all, definitely didn’t want to be forced to have them with some stranger, but she was only _twenty_ , damn it! They couldn’t just take that option away from her. She choked back a sob and jerked to the side, breaking free. She tried to run, but only managed three or so steps before blinding pain stabbed through her head, dropping her to her knees.

She was vaguely aware of the nurse talking. “See? This is why you should have told her. The poor things get so frightened. It really isn’t as invasive as it used to be, dear. We had a human slave a decade or so ago who was a doctor. Now we know how to just cut the hole a bit to make more room, go right in, cut the womb loose, and pull it right out. Easy as can be for a young thing like you.”

The words seemed like they were supposed to be comforting, but they only made things worse. More real. Strong, rough hands grabbed her and started pulling her down the hall. She tried to struggle, but the slug was still hurting her, leaving her weak and unable to get away. _No, no, no._ The word circled around in her head like a skipping record. _No, no, no._ This wasn’t happening. It _wasn’t_.  Then they were in the operating room, and another jolt sizzled through her head as she tried to fight, this one strong enough to actually knock her out.

When she came to, she was strapped down to a table, her legs up in stirrups while the nurse lizard put a soaked cloth over her mouth and nose. _Don’t breathe it in. Don’t breathe it in,_ she chanted to herself, but the pain and terror had her hyperventilating. As whatever was on the cloth started to take effect, another lizard took up a position between her legs. There was a table beside it covered in surgical instruments and a spray bottle. The last thing Buffy was aware of was a scaly hand touching her where it shouldn’t, opening her up and spraying her down. Then nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Just a pinch of gora powder added to the pot, stir it all up proper and… bloody hell, still not right. Nowhere near as bad as the mess English cooks had made of curry back when Spike had been human, but then, that wasn’t saying much. Still had a lot to go before it could measure up to what his family’s Indian cook had been able to create when he’d been a boy.

 _Maybe steep the grated klin root a touch longer. Use some yaktopus broth inst…._ His thoughts trailed off, Buffy filling his mind at the mention of her name for the beasties. Two. Bloody. _Weeks_. A couple of overseers had barged in and taken her away, and even after two weeks, no one would tell him where she was or why she’d been taken. Not really, anyway, just evasive bollocks about routine medical procedures.

He’d let it go at that, thinking at first that it was just a basic checkup. Humans, even ones with Slayer healing and constitution, needed those from time to time. But then a day had passed and another, and he’d known it was no basic checkup. Or at least that it had gone beyond that. He could have forced an answer. As one of Lady Sasszan’s gladiators, he had discipline rights over the slaves who saw to her gladiator house. Since most of them were human, the chip would keep him from actually hurting any of them, but they didn’t know that. He could terrify the information out of one of them.

Except… he didn’t really want to, because he was afraid he already knew what it was. Cancer. Her mum had just been diagnosed with a tumor in her noggin before they’d gone through the portal. What if Buffy had it, too? If it was genetic, then there wouldn’t as much of a worry just yet, but sometimes there were environmental causes. It had been a little over a year and a half without any symptoms, but Buffy was younger and a Slayer. And she might even have developed a different type of cancer.

Knowing for sure wouldn’t change anything. He’d just be left feeling helpless and worried, which was how he already felt. So, for now, he just waited, working on his goal of creating a passable curry. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and handed the pot over to one of the kitchen slaves hovering about. The flavor wasn’t terrible, and the others seemed to like his experiments well enough. Sometimes they were even taken up to the main house for Sasszan to try.

Right. Now to get a cup or two of broth heating while he grated up some more iln root. Once that was set to steeping, he could…. Spike froze as he caught a familiar scent and whirled around to face the source. There she was. Buffy. Standing in the entryway between the kitchen and dining area, looking lost and dazed. He moved in a flash, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. He was so relieved to see her that his ability to read her didn’t catch up to things until he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss. She was stiff and unresponsive, but before he could pull away, she slapped him to the ground.

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted, voice shaky.

“Buffy, what…?”

She shook her head and slowly backed away. “No, don’t call….” She shook her head again and fled.

Spike stared after her, hand absently drifting up to his bruised cheek. His eyes narrowed. No more pussyfooting about. He was going to get answers, even if he had to terrorize the entire bloody lot of house slaves for them.

 

**…**

 

She wandered through the market, too deep in her own thoughts to really pay attention to the sights and sounds. She’d managed to keep her mind blank during the initial recovery period, living each day moment by moment. She’d done the gentle walks they’d led her on, eating whatever they put in front of her whenever they put it there, and had just generally existed with as little thought as possible. Then they’d taken her back to the closest thing she had to a home right now.

Spike hadn’t been in their room, but her body had known where he was likely to be and her feet had taken her to the kitchen. God, the look on his face when he’d seen her, as eager and excited as a puppy, and it had made something inside of her loosen. She’d felt… safe. And with safety had come a flood of emotions she hadn’t been able to handle. She’d felt dirty and obscene, and he’d been touching her, and….

She shouldn’t have hit him. She knew that. But he’d held her, and she’d thought of all they’d done together, and suddenly she’d been back there, strapped down on that table while the doctor touched her, opened her up wide. She’d been out for the rest of it, but her imagination had filled in the blanks. She’d been cut to make more room, and the doctor had reached inside, into her most private place without permission, and he’d….

She choked back a sob and wrapped her arms around herself. Spike had called her Buffy. Rehva wasn’t right, wasn’t who she was, but she wasn’t Buffy anymore, either. Buffy had been free. Buffy had been a person. Whoever she was now was just a slave. Just a _thing_ and any sense of freedom was only an illusion. She had no rights, not even the right to decide what happened to her own body.

One of her hands slid down her torso to rest on her lower belly. She still had her ovaries and everything used for sex was still intact and usable, but she didn’t feel like a real woman anymore. A voice in the back of her mind faintly argued with her, pointing out that she wouldn’t feel that way about anyone else, but it had no impact on how she felt about herself. Back home in Sunnydale, Riley had been pulling away because she hadn’t been enough of a woman for him. And now? Spayed like a dog, part of her cut out and discarded as useless and unneeded?

 _Spike’s more of a woman than I am, now,_ she thought with a broken, pained laugh. Always wanting to talk about their emotions and define their relationship. Did they even have a relationship anymore? The thought that they might not stabbed at her heart. She wanted him, wanted the comfort he could give, but when he’d hugged her…. God, she didn’t want to lose him.

The way he smiled, the clever banter, just being with him. Those vivid blue eyes, framed by gorgeous lashes, and the long, silky curls…. Her steps slowed as thoughts jumbled around in her head, trying to find a new pattern that she could live with. Not a real woman anymore…. Spike….

She bent down, feeling almost like she was in a dream, and pulled a knife out of her boot. She couldn’t use it to harm anyone outside of the arena, but it came in handy sometimes. She gathered her hair with her free hand, then sliced through it, freeing herself of its weight. It was a freedom she had, but only because her owner had allowed her to have it. Short hair, but that wasn’t enough. She needed….

The slave nodded slowly, plans firmly in place, and headed towards a specific shop.

 

**...**

 

Spike stared at the blood, watching it travel across his hand from his shredded knuckles, each drop going its own way. Chaos theory, wasn’t it? Was what that bloke in Jurassic Park, the one played by Jeff Goldblum, had called it. What had the character’s name been, again? Didn’t matter. In the film, it had been water. But here, it was blood, each drop affected by hairs and veins and tiny imperfections in the skin, changing the flow.

Chaos…. He liked chaos. He’d love to unleash some on these people, make them pay for what they’d done. Making them slaves, and then what they’d done to Buffy…. He’d finally gotten it out of a little kitchen girl, one who had snubbed the Slayer at times. They’d both thought it because she was a human who’d been made a gladiator instead of house slave, but that hadn’t been the case. Or at least it hadn’t been all of it. Buffy had been intact, and the kitchen girl hadn’t. And now Buffy wasn’t either.

Spike shuddered and closed his eyes. God, no wonder she’d slapped him down like that. She’d been violated, and he’d just gone and manhandled her without a thought in his head. To be fair, he hadn’t known what had happened, but he should have been able to read her body language. He should have…. _Ian Malcolm,_ his brain suddenly supplied. The name of the bloody chaotician from Jurassic Park.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the pointless thought, and flexed his fingers. He’d heal soon enough, but for now, the pain was soothing. When he’d found out what had happened, he’d gone outside to stare at the pretty little brick wall surrounding their pretty little garden. And then he’d punched it until all the pretty little streams of blood had come out. And now he was back in their room, sitting on the bed and staring at his own blood like it would reveal the secrets of the sodding universe.

Life wasn’t fair. As the man in black had said, anyone who told you different was selling something. But this…. God, she wasn’t even twenty-one yet, and an important choice had been stolen away from her. He couldn’t help thinking of the past, of a night over a hundred years ago. He’d wanted children before that night, and then that dream had been taken away from him. At least he’d said yes, hadn’t really known what he’d been agreeing to, mind, but he’d said yes, and he’d never really regretted that moment. Not the same at all to what Buffy had to be going through. He couldn’t even imagine what….

No, maybe he could. The bloody chip. Couldn’t feed and couldn’t reproduce. Not that he was really interested – other than Willow, who he still thought would have made an adorable vampire – but that was still a choice that had been taken away from him. Still not really the same, and he imagined it wasn’t something she’d want to hear. She’d beat him down as much as the slug in her head would allow if he tried to say he understood because of that, and she’d be justified in it.

His thoughts were interrupted by Buffy bursting in through the door, hair all but shorn and a package under her arm. She didn’t say anything or even look at him, just marched into the connected loo, slamming the door closed behind her. He stared at the door blankly for a moment, feeling vaguely ill. Nothing wrong with her cutting her hair, he’d have done it to his own ages ago if it wouldn’t have meant turning his brain to mush, but she hadn’t just decided on a change of style. Something like this so soon after a trauma? She had hacked away at her identity, not just her hair.

“Buff–” he began as she came out of the bathroom, then stopped, staring. She was naked but for a strap-on harness, a fairly realistic-looking dildo jutting out from the hole in the front. And she’d a bottle of lube clutched in her hand.

His libido sat up and took notice of all the delightful possibilities, but the rest of him was busily trying to figure out just what the bloody hell was going on.

“What…?”

She didn’t answer, just swiftly walked over to him, grabbed him by the wrist, and yanked him to his feet. Then she slammed him against the wall, and he had to fight back a gasp of pleasure. He loved it when she took charge and got rough, but now was not the time, despite the fetish gear. She’d been through a sexual trauma, she was…

Oh, god. _Nnngh._ She was leaning into him, hips undulating slowly and rubbing the toy against his hardening length. She moved, urging him forward just enough to get her hand between him and the wall, stroking along his back like it was a canvas meant to hold the colors of her passion. Up and down, each down going lower and lower, until she pulled her hand away. And then it was back, slick with lube as it settled firmly on his arse, fingers caressing and sliding down and inward and….

“Buffy,” he panted out, shifting to give her better access.

“Senka,” she breathed huskily, and at first, he thought she was calling him by the name Sasszan had given him. “I’m Senka.” There was a soft thump as she dropped the bottle of lube, freeing her other hand to undo his ponytail so she could bury her fingers in his hair. “Such a pretty girl,” she whispered. “Rehva. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

He shivered at her words, eyes going wide. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to gender play, but this…. She was escaping, he realized. Building up a new persona to hide away from both the slavery and what had been done to her. She was a strong woman, the slayer, but she was a slave with no physical way to fight back. The only way for Buffy to be free was… to not be Buffy anymore. He could try to force her back to reality, break the fragile cocoon she’d built to protect herself. Or he could support her and give her what she needed.

Well, easy enough choice, that. He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to her.

 

**...**

 

Senka sighed and stretched before nuzzling the woman in his arms. He felt good. All powerful and masculine and sated. He brushed his hands over Rehva’s cool, supple flesh, fingers tracing the contours of her muscular form. She stirred, long, dark lashes fluttering as her eyes opened.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“’Lo, Bu….” Senka tensed as Rehva started to say that name. “Pet.”

He relaxed and smiled. He liked pet. It was what he was. A pet. A slave. It’s what they both were, and pretending otherwise wasn’t going to do them any good. But at least they had each other. He stroked her harder, the feeling of power surging as she moaned softly and her body reacted to his touch.

“Going to make you feel good,” he murmured, kissing her tenderly.

He trailed his way down her body, kissing, licking, and nibbling. And there it was, a sweet prize he hadn’t allowed himself to sample nearly enough. He pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh, then took her into his mouth. Nothing would change their role as slaves, but in this, he had power. He could take care of his girl. In all ways.


	8. Chapter 8

The Summers house was still and quiet. Either the key had been left alone and sleeping in without any protectors, or no one was there at all. Riley could work with either option. He got out of his SUV and used the hidden spare key to get into the house. A few minutes later, and he was up in Dawn’s empty room with a compact magnifying glass, searching her pillow for hairs. There were several, but none were quite… ah, wait, _there_. A long brown hair with an intact root. Perfect.

He carefully put the hair into a small baggie and glanced around the room. The empty cup on the nightstand probably had a saliva sample, but someone would probably notice if he took that. The small trash can had a wad of gum in it, though, which he carefully collected in another baggie. Unfortunately, there were no tissues stained with blood from a convenient nosebleed or anything. Damn. Well, he hadn’t exactly been counting on that or anything, so it wasn’t a loss.

It just meant he had to go through with the plan he’d already worked out. He wasn’t sure if Dawn had gone to school or was just with the others somewhere, or what, but they’d most likely have it at the Magic Box this afternoon. He’d show up, act all contrite, and if it was there…. Well, if he could get them to think he supported the key, it’d be as easy as giving candy to a baby. Or hot chocolate to a teenage girl.

Riley let himself out of the house as quietly as he’d let himself in. If everything went the way he hoped it would, he’d have things taken care of before they got Buffy back. And maybe then she’d appreciate everything he did for her.

 

**...**

 

A running jump brought Spike up close enough to grab the lowest set of bars and gave him the momentum to swing his legs up and over so he could plant his feet on the bar. From there, he pushed off, sailing through the air for a moment before grabbing onto the next bar. Flip, spin, next bar up, hang upside down from his knees for half a tick, swing, flip, grab, twist, and stick the bloody landing. Then turn with a smirk and an exaggerated bow at the sudden applause.

“Very nice,” Senka said, unashamedly ogling Spike. “I knew you were pretty damn flexible, but that…. Mmmm.”

His eyes took on a faraway look as his tongue peeked out, slowly sliding along his lower lip, and Spike had no doubt the other man was thinking up all kinds of wickedly delightful ways to take advantage of said flexibility. Where Buffy had been shy and hesitant when it came to trying new things, Senka dove right in. Shame and embarrassment and the constant worry about what others would think had been tucked away into the creamy center where Buffy hid, untouched by the shell she’d created to protect herself.

Senka wasn’t just some construct cobbled out of the ether, though. _No more than Spike was something weepy little William pulled out his arse,_ Spike thought in an uncomfortable moment of self-reflection. The soul may have buggered off, but he’d still remembered being William bloody Pratt. It had still formed the core of who and what he was. And when that core had taken one blow too many, he’d drawn out select bits of demon and man to knit the jumper that was “Spike.”

Dru had understood that, and it had been why she’d still called him William at times without denying who he had become. She’d known that even when the tough, reckless persona had melded to become his very flesh, the core had still been there. And Spike understood that about Buffy.

He’d discovered in the past two months that Senka was the part of her that was a performer, that had blossomed as a figure skater and cheerleader and had taken joy in the raw physicality of being the Slayer. He was also the parts of her that most of society liked to term masculine. It had all been drawn out from within to protect her core. Buffy wasn’t Senka, but Senka was part of Buffy, and that was enough for Spike to love him.

“Well, you know,” Spike drawled, sauntering over. “Ate a gymnast or two back in the day. Can’t beat the Olympics for dinner and a show.”

Not that he’d ever actually knowingly eaten an Olympian, mind. He’d usually tended to leave skilled craftsmen and performers off the menu, seeing as how having them about generally kept things enjoyable and entertaining. He’d been to a few of the games, cheering himself hoarse along with the humans and having a gay old time of bashing in the heads of lesser demons thinking of mucking about with the proceedings.

Senka snorted and rolled his eyes, arm slipping around Spike’s waist once he was close enough. “I keep telling you, I don’t think it works that way.”

Spike raised a brow at that. “And just who is it is the vampire here, love?”

She… _he_ – was harder to keep straight being cuddled against a very obviously female body and all – was right, of course. When you ate someone, you took in their life and essence, but it didn’t pass on any skillsets or career knowledge. Be quite a lark if it did, though. Could have bypassed all those cooking, fashion, interior design, and whatall lessons he’d faffed about with over the decades.

Course, actually going to the things and learning had been part of what staved off boredom, which had been the entire point. Not that he thought he’d ever really get bored with violence, but there was something deeply satisfying about a good, vicious kill on the way to learning the best ways to pair pastels with bold colors or somesuch.

“Maybe _I’m_ the vampire,” Senka replied cheekily to the rhetorical question. “And you’re my yummy treat.”

He grinned and snapped his teeth at Spike, then bounded off for his own go at the training equipment before the trainer could start getting impatient. Damn, but it was something to see, wasn’t it? From the first moment he’d laid eyes on Buffy, Spike had enjoyed watching her move. Dancing at the Bronze like she hadn’t a care in the world and nothing mattered but the music and her own body. She’d lost some of that confidence in her physicality after the whole Angel debacle.

Odd that having someone else in complete control of her body – to the point where the bloody bitch what owned them had cut parts out – would have given that back to her. Well, maybe not so odd, really. Senka had been created in part from the buried and castoff bits of Buffy. Made sense that it was something he would have reclaimed.

Spike’s musings were interrupted by Sasszan coming out of the observation room just as Senka finished up. She’d been watching a lot this past week, both out in the main training yard and the specialized areas like this one. Probably due to the gladiator events in the city starting up again in a few months.

Festival season wouldn’t be for a while yet, but from what Spike had heard, there would be plenty of competitions in the city, starting with a week of showcase fights. Those that performed well would be asked to various arenas, the owners getting paid whether their gladiators won or lost. A win paid better, of course, but meant squat if no one actually wanted to watch the gladiators in question.

Agility and flexibility tended to be bigger crowd pleasers than brute strength. The fact that he and Senka had all of the above along with the nature of their relationship – vampire and vampire slayer, lovers and fighting partners against all odds. Human, demon, different dimensions, or what have you, no one could resist a good unlikely romance – meant they were a shoo-in for the showcase fights next year. He’d have put them in this year if he’d been calling the shots, but apparently most owners let new gladiators season for a year beforehand.

“Senka and Rehva will be in the showcase this year,” Sasszan declared to the trainer, inclining her head first towards Spike, then Senka.

Huh. Well, that was unexpected. But then, Sasszan wasn’t exactly stupid. They were bloody fantastic at this gladiator gig, and anything with eyes could see it. And the lizard’s eyes were bloody huge.

“Excuse me, Mistress,” Senka said quietly, palms pressed together and head down respectfully, “but I’m Senka. She’s Rehva.”

Sasszan blinked those big eyes of hers and glanced at Spike as if for confirmation. “What he said,” he responded with a shrug. Then, at the warning twinge of the slug in his head, he pressed his palms together, looked down, and threw in a “Mistress.”

“Hn. Either name is fitting.” Then she turned away from them to talk to the trainer, clearly dismissing them.

Spike hadn’t internalized the female persona Buffy had projected onto him, but he’d at least outwardly be whatever she needed him to be. Hell, before they’d gone through the sodding portal, he’d been working his way to being at least a sodding gray hat for her. He loved Buffy as she had been, and he loved Buffy as she, or he or whatever, was now. And really, that was the only thing that mattered, wasn’t it?

 

**...**

 

Dawn focused on the vaguely lightning bolt shaped imperfection in the center of the clear crystal in her hands, just sort of existing at it. Giles had given it to her as soon as she’d come to the Magic Box after school and had told her to sit down and meditate on the crystal. It was supposed to be mapping out her energy levels or something. Mapping out her energy…. She shuddered, trying not to think too much about it.

Tara had helped a lot, after Willow’s calming spell had been lifted. She’d sat Dawn down and talked to her about how she was special and important, and that it didn’t matter what she’d started out as. She was Dawn Summers now, a human girl with a few extra perks.

And apparently one of those perks was being the perfect “empowered object” for bringing Buffy and Spike back. She wrinkled her nose at that description. Empowered object. Like she wasn’t a person. But she was. She was a person and a key, and once they got the book they needed, her connection to Buffy could be used to bring her and Spike home.

She frowned a bit as she thought about it. Everyone had been a little vague about things when they’d explained. They knew what book the spell was in and what it would do, but didn’t actually have the book. Had Giles seen it once and knew it well enough to know it would work, but just didn’t remember all of the details? It was all kind of --

“Excellent, Dawn, you’re doing quite well,” Giles murmured supportively, breaking into her thoughts. “It seems to be attuning to your energy field.”

Dawn blinked, just now realizing that the crystal had gone from clear to vibrant green. That was… that was kind of cool, actually. She felt a smile starting to tug at her lips, but then the bell over the door chimed and one of the last people she wanted to see came in.

Riley stood there with that big, stupid “oops, sorry” grin on his big, stupid face. He was holding one of those drink carriers with four cups from the Espresso Pump.

“Look,” he started before anyone had a chance to tell him to go away, “I know I messed up, big time. I just… I don’t do well with surprises, and finding out about Dawn was a big surprise.” He walked over to the research table and carefully set the drink holder down. He looked straight at her and held one of the cups out. “I’m sorry, Dawn. I know it doesn’t make up for how you found out or for what I said, but I brought you a peace offering. Hot chocolate.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. She wanted to take the drink and throw it in his face, but…. She wasn’t happy with the guy, but he was her sister’s boyfriend. Also like, totally the king of the doofus people, but mostly her sister’s boyfriend. She’d try to get along with him. For now, anyway.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, reaching out to take the offering.

 

**...**

 

It had gone for it. At first, Riley had thought it was going to throw the hot chocolate in his face, but the key had gone for the bait. And with that acceptance, the others had calmed down as well, though they still threw him dark looks from time to time. It didn’t matter, though. Once he had the proof he needed, he’d be able to free them from whatever mind control they were under. And that proof would come within a few days, if he could get the samples to Graham and convince him to seriously fast track the results.

Once the crushed up sleeping pills did their job, he casually walked over to Dawn and put his jacket over its slumped form. He got a narrow-eyed look from Tara, but he just smiled and continued on, pretending to make the key more comfortable. What he was actually doing though…. Once it was spread across the key the way he wanted, he pulled a finger stick and small vial out of his jacket pocket. The fall of it hid things from view as he pricked her finger and collected a few drops of blood.

Just a few more days. _Don’t worry, Buffy,_ he vowed silently, _I’ll keep them all safe._


	9. Chapter 9

“… and so Stephanie over there, the one what has the fuzzy antlers and all, she’s giving Brad,” Rehva pointed from the fuzzy antlered demon to a big hairy green guy harvesting shmeva roots, “the cold shoulder because she caught him snogging Cynthia.”

“Uh, huh. Cynthia?” Senka asked, raising a brow and taking a sip of his gn’athoo. It was some kind of alcohol that tasted a little like strong beer. “Which one is Cynthia?”

Rehva took a swig of her own drink before answering. “There.” She pointed to a bull demon who was watering something. “And the one Stephanie is working next to, that’s Helga. Stephanie is all,” Rehva’s voice went higher and a little softer, “Can you believe it, Helga? He was all over _Cynthia_ , snoggin’ away. Yeah, she’s got a great arse and tits, but she’s a brainless ninny, and her flower arranging is terrible!”

Senka laughed and shook his head. Rehva didn’t have access to her soaps in this dimension, so she made up her own stories and chattered on about them. When they were doing their arena or festival tours, she’d weave stories around the other fighters. During the off season, though, they’d do this after training. Just sit on the brick wall around the fields together and watch the farm slaves work while they drank and Rehva made up fanciful tales. It was a good way to wind down, especially since the showcase fights – their second set since being bought – would be in a little under a month.

Rehva’s voice changed again as she spoke for Helga, becoming a little huskier. It was what Senka called her phone sex voice, and it sent shivers through his body that seemed to gather at his nipples and groin. He loved that voice, especially when Rehva used it during sex.

“Well, you should throw him to the curb, girlfriend. There are better men out there. Or even women…. Kiss me, Stephanie! Make me yours!”

She went back to the first voice. “I… n-no, I can’t. I don’t feel that way about you, Helga!” She paused for another drink. “Except…. The way your mucus glands shimmer in the light. It’s so…. No! I mustn’t! But I must!”

She made kissing sounds and moaned like she was about to come right there on the wall. It wasn’t doing anything for those shivery tingles. Or, well, it was actually doing a _lot_ for them. As in increasing them. Not that he was complaining. His girl could tingle him all day long.

“Oh, yes, uh, yes! Helg-”

“Stephanie, how could you?” Rehva interrupted herself, voice a little deeper than her normal one. Down below, the other slaves had moved around a bit, “Brad” coming in close to the making out (working together to harvest a large root) couple. Rehva switched back to Stephanie. “Brad! It-it’s not what it looks…. No, no it _is_ what it looks like! I saw you with Cynthia, and now I’m with Helga!

“You daft twat, you can’t be with Helga. Don’t you know? She’s your identical twin cousin twice removed what was thought dead but actually got amnesia! And as for Cynthia… well, _I_ had amnesia at the time!”

Senka was already snickering at the identical twin cousin twice removed thing, but then the amnesia…. He started laughing hard enough that he nearly fell off the wall. Once he got a hold of himself, he glanced over at Rehva and everything froze for a moment. God, she was beautiful. Bright blue eyes, happy grin, long brown curls pulled back in a tail and glinting with gold highlights in the late afternoon sun. Senka put aside his drink and pulled her close for a deep, passionate kiss.

“I love you,” he panted softly as he pulled away to breathe. It was so easy to say it. To feel it. Even though it was big and deep and should have been scary.

“Love you, too,” she said, voice husky with emotion.

And then she was kissing him, or he was kissing her again. He wasn’t sure which. He wasn’t even sure when they fell over the wall. One minute they were sitting up there and the next they were on the ground, Rehva pinned beneath him. Her hair had somehow escaped the ponytail and was spread out across the grass, a river of silky, caramel rapids. Senka wanted her, and he could tell she wanted him. He didn’t have what he needed for penetration, but that was okay. They knew how to work around that.

He straddled Rehva just right, and…. Oh. Oh, god, that felt amazing. He moaned softly as he rubbed himself against her, the little sounds she was making sending sparks through him. He leaned down and kissed her, keeping up the rhythm as they lost themselves in the pleasure.

 

**...**

 

The dice clattered across the kitchen prep table and came to a stop with one showing the color red, one with a three, and the last with a little carved image of a bird. Senka frowned down at them, nose wrinkling in thought or distaste. Possibly both. Either way, was bloody adorable. He glanced at his handful of bone rectangles – more like thin dominoes in size and shape than playing cards – and lightly bit his lower lip before putting one down. It had a red bird on it along with a seven. If he’d matched all three dice, he could have put down a second. One or none and he’d have had to pick one up from the holding box.

And now it was Spike’s turn. He glanced up at the clock – still two more minutes until the breakfast casserole he was baking needed out the oven – then grabbed up the dice. The color and animal were basic six-siders while the number had twelve. He bounced them in his palm a couple of times, then rolled. Yellow, eight, yaktopus. He had a yellow yak and a yellow eight. After a moment’s thought, he put down the yellow eight, which left him with five bones. Senka only had three. The first of them to have none would be the winner.

“So,” Senka said as he reached for the dice. “What do I get when I win?”

“When you win, is it?” Spike raised a brow at that. “Counting our chicks a bit early, aren’t we, love?”

“Yeah, right, like I’m going to… lose….” He trailed off as the dice bounced to a stop, showing purple, eleven, and slorva. “Crap!”

Spike laughed and tossed him another bone from the box before getting up to get the casserole out of the oven and cooling on the counter. A quick check showed that his dough was just about ready, so time to get the oil heating. Once that was going, he returned to the prep table and rolled the dice without bothering to sit down. He’d just be up again in a minute or two to start frying up dough balls before anyone else was up and about.

Not that it was his job to feed the lot of them, or anything. He just liked to, at times. The cooking kept his hands and mind occupied. The kitchen slaves had gotten used to it over the last few years to the point where they’d just bugger off back to bed without a word if they saw him puttering about in the wee hours of the morning. Something like that never would have been allowed in the main house, but the gladiator house was, well, full of gladiators, wasn’t it? A subset of slaves that brought their owners fame and fortune. As such, they were allowed a few quirks, especially in the privacy of their own house.

The dice he had just rolled came to a stop, and he grinned at Senka’s adorable little scowl as he was able to put down two of his bones. “What was it we were saying about terms, then?”

“You win, and I’ll take you out to the spice shop and pay for whatever you want. I win, you’ll buy me some new boots.” Senka rolled, his scowl changing to a grin at the results. “Sound fair?” He set down one of his bones, leaving them both at three.

“You’re on.”

 

**...**

“Mmm… that… was amazing,” Senka murmured.

“Always is with us, love,” Spike said, running his hands through Senka’s hair.

He was a warm, sweaty, beautiful weight against Spike as they lay together in their bed, basking in the afterglow from several hours of bloody fantastic shagging. Burying himself in the warmth between Senka’s legs was still off limits, but he was game for everything else either one of them could think up. An adventurous sort, Senka was.

“Very true,” Senka agreed, sliding his hand across Spike’s chest to lazily play a game of abstract connect the dots with the freckles scattered across his shoulder. “But this was for my birthday, which makes it even more amazingier.”

The first time Buffy’s birthday had come along after she’d become Senka, Spike hadn’t known if he considered it his birthday or not. Not being the sort to pussyfoot about, he’d flat out asked, which had gotten him a strange look and a, “Of course it’s still my birthday, you dope. Being in a different dimension didn’t change when I was born.”

Senka sighed softly in contentment and snuggled in closer before drifting off to sleep. As much as Spike would have liked to follow suit, he stayed awake, waiting for what he knew would happen. For the most part, it was fairly random, but it always happened on the big nights. Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday. Once Senka was deeply asleep – eyes closed tight and breathing deep and even – Buffy started to cry.

She’d talk a bit in her sleep, about Mum, Li’l Sis, Watcher, and all her mates. Every once in a great while she’d mumble something about his wanker of a great grandsire. Never anything about Captain Cardboard, which was fairly telling, Spike thought. Mostly, though, she just cried. This time was no different, and, as always, he held her through it, gently stroking her cropped hair as he murmured soft words of comfort and kissed away her tears.

 

**...**

 

Boredom was seriously not fun. Which was probably why it was called boredom and not fundom. Normally, watching Rehva play around in the kitchen was entertaining, especially if there was enough time between steps in whatever recipe for a game or two. But Senka was feeling a bit too restless for that at the moment, so he’d come out to the flower garden, roaming aimlessly while Rehva continued her probably pointless quest to perfect curry in this dimension. She’d pretty much given up on tea, though she’d accidentally stumbled across some kind of tangy, astringent steeped leaf drink that wasn’t all that bad. But it still wasn’t tea, a fact Rehva griped about every time she made it.

Senka shook his head, lips twitching up into a fond little smile. Maybe he’d head back soon and ask for some, along with a sandwich and some of those little mini cakes she was always baking. His mouth was watering a bit, just thinking about it. Yeah, that was definitely a plan. He’d walk around the grounds a bit more to take care of the restlessness, then go back to the gladiator house for a sandwich, cakes, and that-which-must-not-be-called-tea-on-pain-of-affronted-Englishwoman-glower.

 _Though that glower is pretty adorable,_ Senka thought with a grin. _Maybe I’ll_ – His thoughts were cut off by a strange sort of ripple of colored light in the air in front of him, followed by a growing tear in reality. He froze, eyes wide. What the hell?

“Buffy?” The voice floated through the tear as an image started to appear. An image as achingly familiar as the voice. The Magic Box, with the Scoobies gathered there. Willow reached out her hand. “Buffy! Quick, you have to come through the portal!”

Go… through the portal? Did she mean escape? Pain flared through his head as the slug reacted to the thought, and he shook it, backing away from the portal. Part of him cried out, insisting that he should grit his teeth through the pain and dive into the portal. Mom, Dawn, her… his friends. They all needed him. But he couldn’t leave. Rehva. He had to find Rehva.

“Buffy, you have to hurry!”

Senka turned and fled just as the portal began to close.


	10. Chapter 10

Willow stared blankly at where the portal had been. They’d done everything right this time. Giles and Tara had done most of the work while Dawn stood in the middle of the prepared circle. They had set up in Buffy’s training room for the spell, those not directly involved waiting on the outskirts to welcome her home. But Buffy wasn’t home.

She’d been right there. They’d opened the portal, and Buffy had been _right there_. But instead of coming through, she’d run away. Willow shook her head in bewilderment. Why? Why would she have done that? Maybe she’d been embarrassed by the skimpy outfit and boyish haircut? No, Buffy could get kind of self-conscious about her looks, but that wouldn’t have been enough to keep her from coming home. Maybe…

Willow felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. What had happened to her friend during the time it had taken for them to replace the book? _This is my fault. I did this. I…._ No. No, she’d just tried to do the right thing. She’d made a mistake, but they’d get Buffy back, and everything would be okay. It would--

“What happened?” Dawn wailed, sounding close to hysterics. “Where are Buffy and Spike?”

“I’m not certain,” Giles answered with a slight frown. “But the spell clearly worked. After a short rest, we should be able to try again.”

 _The spell clearly worked…._ Guilt gnawed at Willow again. It had worked this time, because they’d had all the right ingredients and they’d taken the time to prep things. If she’d just taken the book back to Giles when she’d discovered the spell, they could have had Buffy back then instead of having to wait four more days. Five days. Buffy had been trapped in some other dimension for five days, and they could have gotten her out after only one.

She’d managed to work herself into a deep funk when Riley suddenly got in her face. She’d always thought of him as solid and reliable, but he’d been kind of flaky lately, even before Buffy had vanished. Standing them up for patrols and doing all kinds of dangerous things by himself and getting hurt. She could even see the edge of a bandage peeking out beyond his turtleneck. Wait, why would he have a bandage on his neck? And why had he been wearing turtlenecks and long sleeves so much lately?

“Could she see me?” he demanded.

“What?” The question seemed to come pretty out of the blue.

“Could she see me?” he repeated, grabbing her by the upper arms and shaking her slightly. “Buffy. Did she see me before she ran?”

“I… I don’t kno-”

“Hey!” Xander grabbed Riley by the arm and tugged him away from her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I just want to know if she saw me before running off from her chance to come home,” Riley said, bitterness in his voice. It was in his face too for a moment before a bland, good-old-boy expression wiped it away. “I’m sorry, Willow. I just…. I’m worried about her.”

“W-we’ll get her back,” Tara said, coming over and standing between Riley and Willow. There was nothing threatening in her stance, but her body language made it clear that he would have to go through her to grab at Willow again. “Just, just calm down, and we’ll try again soon.”

The tears built up at the back of Willow’s eyes again, though for a different reason. She’d messed up, but Tara still loved her and was willing to defend her. She’d even been willing to keep Willow’s mistake a secret. Giles, too.

Willow took a deep breath and glanced over to where Dawn was sitting with a glass of water. She was looking a bit better and could probably act as the empowered object again in about twenty minutes or so.

 _Whatever it takes,_ she vowed to herself. She’d messed up, big time, but whatever damage had been caused, she’d find a way to fix it.

 

**...**

 

He typically abandoned them before even getting halfway through, but Spike was a bit of a planner. Despite that, he’d kept his mind completely, deliberately blank when it came to what to do about the portal Senka had seen nearly a week ago. Wasn’t exactly easy, especially not with Buffy crying in her sleep every night since then, but even a speck of a plan would lead to disaster. Slugs didn’t much care for thoughts on escape, after all. Senka had gotten a warning tingle a time or two in the past few days, likely from thinking too much about the possibility. With the slug and the chip working together, Spike couldn’t afford to do the same.

Anytime his own mind started down that path, he set it along another, letting himself think on some of the parts of slavery that weren’t all that bad. He’d Senka, for one. Someone who loved and was faithful to him. Maybe the love was something what would last beyond this dimension, but then again, maybe it wasn’t. What happens when you perform together as a sodding Vegas show bloody well stays in demon dimension Vegas or somesuch.

There were other things, though. The blood for one. Taken from multiple sources and all mixed about with animal, but it was still human and still gave him a bit of a buzz. That was definitely a plus. And then there were the arena fights. Bloody brill, those were. Couldn’t kill anything other than the bloody yaktopi, but the screams of the crowds made up for that a bit. All of them up there, the stands filled to bursting and the noise near deafening as they cheered him and Senka on, throwing down coins and flowers and other random bits and bobs in their appreciation for the show. Heady stuff, it was, being recognized and admired. Couldn’t get anything like that back home. Just a punch to the nose for trying to help out.

He wasn’t thinking on any of that – was just laid out on their bed watching Senka do some stretches – when another portal showed up. Senka froze, staring at it like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. The ripple of colors opened up, revealing Willow in the foreground and the fuzzy images of Cardboard and the boy somewhere behind her. Some thoughts – ones that were abso-bloody-lutely _not_ a plan, especially not one to escape – began to take shape.

“Buffy,” Willow called out. “Please don’t run. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but we can hel–” She cut off abruptly as Spike stood up, her expression going from confusion to a slowly dawning horror.

His not-a-plan was momentarily disrupted by sudden self-consciousness. He couldn’t look _that_ terrible, could he? Senka was always calling him pretty and such. ‘Course, love was blind and all, and Senka was convinced Spike was a woman despite the physical evidence to the contrary, so there was only so much faith one could put into his opinion on things like that. He shook the thought out his head and went over to the closet for his coat.

He liked his coat, after all, and could bloody well put it on whenever he bloody well wanted to. And he was taking the stuffed piggy Mrs. Gordo with him because he’d made the sodding thing, hadn’t he, and liked to cuddle it a bit when Senka wasn’t. Nothing odd or escape-y in any of that.

 _Right bit of a mess we’ve got here, don’t we?_ he thought as he put his coat on. All sorts of coins and trinkets and gemstones laying all strewn about on the knicknack table near the closet. He didn’t feel like doing a full-on tidy at the moment, so he just started stuffing things into his pockets right quick while Willow yammered on to a noticeably shaking Senka. Bloke needed a hug, no doubt. Well, Spike could see to that. He stuffed Mrs. Gordo into his pocket with the other things and went over to Senka, firmly thinking on the hug he was going to give him….

And then he rammed into Senka, shoving him through the portal as the slug finally sussed out what he was up to. It shrieked out full force in disapproval, sending white hot lances of physical and mental agony through Spike’s head. And then the chip joined in, the added migraine pushing him down into the darkness as a hand tangled into his hair and yanked him through the portal.

 

**...**

 

Riley wanted to believe Buffy hadn’t seen him. Even though he’d been able to see her face clearly in the portal, it was possible she had seen some other part of the room. He wanted to believe it had been the key, that the few days she’d spent in a different dimension had broken Buffy’s brainwashing and she’d realized what a dangerous and horrible thing it was. He desperately wanted to believe all that, but he knew the truth. She’d seen him, and she’d run away, just like always. But this time, it had been physically instead of emotionally. He loved her with all that he was, but she didn’t love him back. She didn’t _need_ him. But there were those who did.

While Willow started the spell back up, Riley’s hand absently rubbed at the crook of his left arm, where the sleeve of his gray turtleneck hid the bandage covering a fresh vampire bite. The break to let the key rest had given him just enough time to sneak out and call one of the vampire girls he knew and have her come to the alley behind the store. The feel of her fangs sinking into his flesh, the jolt of euphoria as she’d taken what she needed and had given in return…. It had steadied him and helped lock away the bitterness and hurt.

Once the samples he’d sent to Graham were analyzed and Dawn’s inhumanity proven, the military would come and help him contain or destroy it. And then Buffy would be free of its influence and realize that she _did_ need him. It wouldn’t be an instant thing, of course. She’d rage and scream and beat her fists ineffectually against him at first, but then she’d realize how she’d been used. She would collapse against him, sobbing and thanking him for….

The room was unnaturally silent for a moment as Willow, Tara, and Giles finished the chant. Then a ripple of light formed and slowly opened, revealing Buffy. He stared, drinking in the sight of her as Willow called out. Whatever she’d been through in the past five days had left its mark, changing her more than just the shorn hair. Her face was a little thinner, making her seem slightly older than before, though she could still pass for a high school student. Not really hard considering she was nineteen, but he’d just as easily believe she was at least twenty-one now.

For a few minutes, she just stood there, looking frightened and confused. Then someone pushed her into the portal. That got through to her. She twisted like a cat, reaching back and pulling her pusher out by the hair. Willow had to hastily back out of the way as they fell to the floor of the training room together.

“Rehva!” Buffy called out frantically, scrambling up and onto her knees and lightly shaking the other person. Blood had started to leak from his nose, ears, and closed eyes.

Was that…? Riley blinked in confusion at the unconscious vampire. That was Spike, but his hair had somehow grown by at least two feet. However that had happened, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Buffy. Riley strode forward, pulled her to her feet by her arm, and kissed her passionately. Sometimes, if he caught her off guard, she would be stiff and unresponsive for a second before melting into his embrace.

This time, though, the melting never came.

This time, Buffy hit him hard enough to send him staggering across the room, stars exploding across his vision and a feeling of nausea rising up. But she was the one who went down, falling to her knees and clutching her head in pain.

This wasn’t his Buffy. This wasn’t something she would do. Riley didn’t know what Spike had done to her, or how he’d done it, but he was going to make the vampire pay.


	11. Chapter 11

Words swirled and assaulted him as overlapping voices demanded answers. English words, sounding strange and wrong coming from someone other than himself or Rehva. _Buffy, are you okay? Buffy, what’s wrong? Where were you? What happened to you? Buffy? Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…._ Senka could barely think over the pain in his head and all of the _Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…._

What had even happened? Rehva had pushed him through the portal, and he’d grabbed at her in a blind panic, pulling her through after him. Neither of those had triggered the slug, since slaves weren’t punished for being stolen, and his intent hadn’t been to take Rehva away from their owner. He’d just needed her by his side. But hitting the guy he’d dated back in his gay phase? It had been a quick impulse with no real thought behind it, and the stupid slug must have decided the guy was a random house slave Senka had no jurisdiction over. It had triggered, sending him to his knees in agony.

By the time the pain started to fade, the man he’d hit had recovered enough to take a few staggering steps towards Rehva. And he seriously didn’t look like he was going to try to help her. _He’s not a house slave,_ Senka thought very firmly as he forced himself to move through the lingering pain. He straddled Rehva’s unconscious body, putting himself between her and harm as he glared defiantly at the other man. _He’s a thief. As a good slave, I should do whatever I can to stop him._ He didn’t know if that would be enough to convince the slug to let him fight the guy – what was his name, again? – but it was worth a try.

“What the hell are you doing?” the man demanded. He looked sort of queasy, like he was only moments away from vomiting or passing out from the blow he’d taken. Maybe both.

“Listen up… Ronnie.” Senka knew it was the wrong name even before the guy’s face scrunched up like he’d found a fukara larva in his soup. “If you want to hurt Rehva, you have to go through me first.”

There was more talking from the others. More _Buffy, Buffy, Buffy._ “My name is Senka,” he snapped, not taking his eyes off of… Ricky? Randy? RuPaul?

No, none of those were right. He knew it was something that started with an R and was kind of girly. Rinnie? Riley? That was it! There was no way he was going to let –

“Buffy?” The voice was weak and kind of scared, and Senka didn’t even care that she had called him Buffy.

“Dawnie?” He turned his head to look at the girl. “You… you haven’t grown any.”

Senka glanced around at everyone else. Anxious and sort of shocked for the most part, with Xander staring at Rehva with an expression like he’d just eaten a live fish. None of them really looked any older than he remembered, but mid-twenties didn’t really look all that different from late teens sometimes, and Giles was at that stage where he just looked vaguely old, but not ancient for a while. Dawn, though…. She obviously hadn’t aged at all. Either the monks had made a mistake when they made her human, or….

“How long?” he asked, his voice coming out tight and hoarse.

“Five days for us,” Willow answered quietly. “I’m sorry, Buffy. If –”

“Senka! My… my name is Senka.”

Only five days had passed? That… that was just insane. It was better than the other way around, but it was hard to really comprehend. He’d been away from everyone for roughly six years. How was he supposed to pick up his life like it had only been five days?

 _No wonder Riley thought he could just grab and kiss me like that,_ he thought. Then he realized the deeper implications. The woman in red would still be after Dawn. And Mom….

Senka looked down at Rehva. Her face was covered with her own blood, but she wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, thankfully. He needed to go see his mom, but he couldn’t just leave Rehva here alone. If Mom was home, he could just take her there, but not if she was still in the hospital.

“Senka?” He looked up to see Giles kneeling down beside him. “I know this must be very disorienting for you. Let us know what you need.”

Senka closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Where’s Mom?”

“Still in hospital.”

Damn it. He was going to have to choose. He stared into Giles’s eyes. Nothing but compassion there, but could he really trust him when it came to Rehva? He suddenly wished he could just grab her and drag her somewhere safe. He vaguely remembered there being an access to underground tunnels in the basement. He could…. He took another deep breath and slowly let it out.

He was back in his home dimension, and it was a good thing. It was strange and freaksome, but damn it, it was _good,_ and he had to learn to trust these people again. If he could get Giles to help him with one thing, then Senka could trust him to take care of Rehva while he went to see his mom.

“I need to see Mom. And I need your help.” He held out his arm. “Cut me so I can give Rehva some blood.”

 

**...**

 

Giles stared down at the dead man on his couch, thinking on how to make him even deader. It would be really quite simple. Roll him off the sofa, plunge a stake through his heart, and hoover up the remains. He could claim the vampire had run off, leaving none the wiser as to his true fate. There were times he wished with all his being that he’d done something of the sort to Angel as soon as they had discovered what he was.

When he reached down towards Spike, however, it was to readjust the pillow tucked under his head. Spike was no angel by any means, but he was no Angel, either. Spike had been Giles’s flatmate for nearly three weeks last year, followed by frequent visits, and a bond of sorts had been formed over proper football and daytime telly. Even with that, he might have agreed with Riley’s belief – voiced after Willow, Tara, and Dawn had taken Buffy to see her mother – that the vampire had taken advantage of and manipulated Buffy.

But Spike had pushed Buffy through the portal, towards her family and friends, which was something a manipulator would never do. And he had done it knowing full well what the slug and chip would do to him. Buffy’s terse explanation of the slugs while he’d cut her arm – something the creature in her head wouldn’t allow her to do herself – had made that clear.

His poor, dear girl. He’d no idea what had happened to her in that other dimension, but her actions had made it clear, to him at least, that Spike had been a comfort through it all and something had developed between them. Calling him princess had been rather peculiar, but the soft, gentle words Buffy had murmured to Spike as she’d cleaned him up and fed him had been very telling. Even more so had been when she’d made a point to inform Giles that it had been six years since Spike had last had a real cup of tea. And that “she” – apparently meaning Spike – hadn’t quite been able to perfect curry. Grand gestures were one thing, but keeping small details like that in mind spoke of something deep and meaningful.

Giles sighed and shook his head before getting ready to go back out. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it all, but for now, he would be supportive. And at the moment, being supportive meant picking up some lamb and several pints of blood.

 

**...**

 

Dawn had had a plan. A really good one, too. They’d get Buffy and Spike back, and she’d hug her sister before kicking her in the shin for vanishing and not talking about the whole key thing. There was going to be ice cream and movies and milkshakes while Buffy tried to win her forgiveness. And they’d go see Mom, and Dawn would be all smug about the story she’d spun about how Buffy had a nasty demon-y stomach flu, and she hadn’t been by the hospital because she was vomiting and pooping all the time. That last part – but without the smugness – was actually happening, but the rest of it….

Dawn glanced out of the corner of her eye at Buffy as they headed towards Mom’s room. They’d stopped by the house to get her something better than a micro skirt’s smaller cousin and a bra band to wear to the hospital. Buffy had just sort of stared at a pair of jeans for a minute before opting for a knee-length skirt. She was playing with the fabric of it right now, looking sort of dazed and nervous. Dawn was still upset about not being told what she was, but it seemed really petty to bring it up after whatever Buffy had been through. She didn’t even want to be called Buffy anymore. Which, okay, Buffy was kind of a weird name, but that was going to cause some problems.

“Um, Buff… Senka,” she said, keeping her voice low enough that Tara and Willow probably wouldn’t hear. “Mom’s been…. Sometimes she gets kind of weird because of the tumor. So, um, let her call you Buffy, okay? So she doesn’t get confused.”

Buffy looked at her, and her eyes seemed almost too big. It reminded Dawn of the summer after Buffy had died for a minute. Even Dad, as out of touch as he could be, had realized she was strangely distant back then.

“Yeah, okay,” Buffy finally said, jerking her head in an awkward nod as they got to the room.

 _This isn’t going to go well,_ Dawn thought with a sinking feeling. Buffy would keep being all distant and weird and Mom would be confused and there would be this whole big spiral of freakiness and….

“Buffy! How are you feeling? Dawn told me….” Mom trailed off, the concern on her face deepening.

“Mom….” Buffy’s voice sounded choked up and weirdly young, like a little kid after a bad dream. “Mommy.”

Mom didn’t say anything. Just opened up her arms, and there Buffy was, crying and being held. Dawn glanced back behind her, trying to figure out how to ask Tara and Willow to go away without being really rude. She didn’t have to. Tara smiled and lightly shoved her more into the room before closing the door.

Dawn hurried over to the bed and climbed on, her own tears threatening to fall as she hugged her mother and sister. Buffy stiffened for a second, then went limp as the crying turned into full-blown sobs that shook her entire body.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” Mom murmured. “It’s okay.”

Dawn didn’t think it was okay. It was really, really not okay right now. But Dawn would do whatever she could to make things better.

 

**...**

 

Senka couldn’t seem to stop crying. Mom’s arms were warm and comforting in a way even Rehva’s couldn’t be. Six years. He’d been away from his mom for six whole years, and during that time, he hadn’t even known if she was still alive. But here she was. Real and alive. And Dawn was, too.

Home. He was really home. He hadn’t allowed herself to think about home in so long, and now…. He buried his head against his mother’s shoulder and just let himself cry as something inside, some kind of cocoon, started to crumble.


	12. Chapter 12

His eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan trying to escape as the liquid heat filled his mouth. The flavors danced across his tongue, tempting him to just hold it in. But then the rest would get cold, and that would be a bloody sin. Not that he was normally against that sort of thing, mind, but this… was Tea.

Spike swallowed and opened his eyes. Were a lot of unflattering things could be said about Giles, but the man made a bloody fine cuppa and had even remembered how he took it. Two sugars and a splash of milk. Good quality leaves steeped just right in good quality water. God, it was good to be home. ‘Course, it would have been even better if he’d woken with Senka there to tell him about the five days rather than Giles, but with Joyce still being in hospital and all, Spike understood. If he’d been conscious, he’d have shooed Senka off to be with her himself.

 _And speaking of consciousness,_ he thought, gazing down into his tea. It had been years since the only other time he’d set off the bloody slug, but he still remembered what it had been like. He’d been out for a full day and the pain had lingered beyond that. This time, he’d been out for roughly fourteen hours, and the vague ache in his head had cleared up after a mug of lamb blood.

The difference seemed to be that, this time, he’d been given slayer blood. And now here he was, sat at Giles’s table while the watcher himself puttered about at the stove.

Spike fidgeted and took another sip of tea, feeling restless and out of sorts. He should be _doing_ something, not just sitting about on his arse. But wasn’t much he could do at the moment other than wait. When Giles had rung Senka up, Willow had answered, saying he was asleep and that she and Tara were working out a spell to remove the slugs. She’d used the plural there. Spike idly wondered if Red had planned to get rid of both from the start, or if Senka had forced the issue.

His thoughts were interrupted by Giles putting a plate of rice and lamb curry down in front of him before sitting down with his own. The smell was right, and most likely the taste as well since it was his own recipe. That was a bit of a fond memory, wasn’t it? Only last year as far as the watcher was concerned. Spike had broken into his flat, nicked some dosh, then come back to wake the sorry sod and teach him how to make a good curry. Giles had been so bored at the time, he hadn’t even tried to kick him out.

“What’s all this about, then?” Spike asked before taking a bite. Perfect. Utterly bloody perfect. Bloody hell, he was _not_ going to cry over sodding human food. “Hasn’t been that long for you since you were whinging on about me barging in to help you keep to your diet.”

“Seeing as how I wasn’t actually _on_ a diet, you eating my crisps and peanut butter crackers wasn’t terribly helpful,” Giles said dryly. Then he continued quietly, “What you did for Buffy, however, was.”

“Senka,” Spike corrected.

Giles’s face took on a troubled look. “She’s… she _is_ Buffy, still, isn’t she? She’s not…?”

“Possessed?” Spike shook his head, considering what he should and shouldn’t tell the other man. “Not my place to go into most of it, but what we went through….” He poked at the metal collar still around his neck. “We were slaves with no way to fight back or get free. Not a situation someone like the Slayer is really equipped to deal with. And then what they did to her…. She couldn’t handle it. Not many could. She retreated into a different persona. A male one, so you’d best keep to male pronouns around him for now and use his name.”

“And you? Buffy… Senka, kept calling you Rehva and using female pronouns. And the way she was acting towards you….”

“Like I mean something to her?” Spike said bluntly. “Yeah. We got close, and when she was….” He looked down and shuddered slightly, mostly from impotent rage. He didn’t let himself dwell on it – he didn’t need another bout of pain and unconsciousness – but he wished he could get his hands on his former owner and rip some of her organs out. “She couldn’t be a woman anymore, not and stay sane. She needed to be a man with a woman by her side. I’ve been going along with it, and I suggest you do, too.”

He could tell that Giles had more questions, but then the phone rang, saving him from having to answer any of them.

 

**...**

 

Riley was increasingly feeling like he was surrounded by the enemy. They were all under the control of the key, even Giles. That had to be why the man had grabbed his arm and quietly threatened him when he’d tried to stake Spike. The vampire would be a strong protector for the key. Of course they wanted him still around. And of course they were going to take out the slug in his head, too. At least Willow had called to tell him about it. With the way they were all acting, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself left completely out of the loop.

  _It’s not their fault,_ he reminded himself as he looked around the group gathered in the training room of the Magic Box. Willow, Tara, and the key. And Buffy, hugging herself and looking around anxiously while they waited for Giles and Spike to arrive.

“Buffy,” he said quietly as he slowly approached her. She gave him a wary look and backed away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that last night. I shouldn’t have.” He flashed her his most reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re home. And… I know it’s going to be hard work for both of us to get back to where we were.”

Buffy was shaking her head. She didn’t think it would take work? Or….

“I…. Riley, that’s not….” Her expression hardened. “I’m with Rehva now.”

Rehva? He frowned in confusion for a moment before remembering that had been what Buffy had called Spike. His fists clenched at his sides, but he forced himself to stay calm. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been alone and afraid. Vulnerable.

“Buffy.” She flinched slightly at her name. “Listen to me. You have to listen to me. Spi… Rehva, isn’t right for you. He’s a monster, not a man. He can’t love you the way I can.”

She was shaking her head. Riley knew he shouldn’t, but he grabbed her, wanting to shake sense into her. He loved her so much, and she’d been pulling away even before all of this. Damn it, he wasn’t just going to let her go!

“He can’t give you any kind of normal life. Or get a steady nine-to-five to provide for you. Or give you kids. You can never have kids with him.”

He thought that would get to her, and it seemed to, but something was off. She paled, her eyes going wide as her breathing became uneven.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the key suddenly demanded.

Before Riley could tell it to mind its own business, Buffy jerked away from him.

“No!” she shouted, doubling over slightly with her hand pressed against her abdomen. “No kids!”

Riley frowned in confusion and allowed himself to be pushed out of the way as Willow hurried over to see what was wrong. He really wanted an answer to that one. What kind of normal heterosexual woman didn’t want children? The uncomfortable feeling that maybe Buffy just wasn’t right for him stirred, but he pushed it away. They were perfect for each other. He’d make her see that, and she’d love him the way she was supposed to. The way she probably had before the key had ruined everything.

“I didn’t mean right now,” he said, cutting through whatever the girls had been saying. “In a year or two, though… we could maybe get married and start trying for kids. As many as you want. We–”

He was cut off by a dark, nearly hysterical laugh from Buffy. “As many as I want? I can’t….” She backed away from her friends and the key, shaking her head. “They took it out. I can’t….”

Willow held up her hand as Buffy trailed off, and a faint shimmer of energy flickered between them for a moment before Tara grabbed Willow’s arm. “Willow, stop!”

“It, it was just a diagnostic spell.” Willow looked shaken, and Riley was pretty sure it wasn’t from the rebuke. “Buffy can’t have kids. Her uterus is gone.”

Everything seemed to freeze for a moment while Riley’s dreams of a white picket fence and two-point-five children life with Buffy crumbled into dust. He’d turned against his unit and ruined his career. He’d risked his life and health to be what she needed. And now _this_.

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

To Riley, Spike’s voice was an unwelcome intrusion, but it completely changed Buffy’s demeanor. Her closed off body language became open and confident. The trauma and inner turmoil seemed to roll right off of her like water off a duck’s back as she strode towards the vampire.

“Rehva,” she said, reaching up to gently cup his face.

And the sound of her voice…. It was over. There was nothing left to fight for. As those thoughts settled over Riley’s mind, his gaze landed on the key. It was doing a good job of pretending to be horrified by what had happened to Buffy, but he knew better. No one would just remove a perfectly healthy organ. Whatever emissions the key was giving off hadn’t just made Joyce sick. They must have infected Buffy as well.

Riley’s fists clenched as he fought the urge to snap the thing’s neck. Not yet. He needed proof first. There might not have been a future for him and Buffy anymore, but he would avenge her, when the time was right. For now, though, he couldn’t just stand here and watch things play out. He turned and left the Magic Box without a backward glance.

 

**...**

 

Tara stared down at the floor, feeling sick. Buffy had been violated, both by the people in the other dimension and by someone who was supposed to be one of her best friends. _It was just a diagnostic spell…_ Said as if Willow just didn’t understand how horribly invasive that was without asking for permission first. And then to just blurt out what she’d discovered like that!

Thank god Spike had shown up when he had. Being near him had stabilized the ragged edges of Buffy’s aura. Or, well, Senka’s aura. This wasn’t case of someone else being in Buffy’s body like with Faith, but there was a distinct difference between Buffy’s aura and this new persona’s. She’d seen it sort of blurring back and forth before she’d closed the door last night to give them private time with their mother.

Tara took a deep breath and focused on Willow. She wasn’t a bad person. Not at all. She could just be impulsive at times, like Tara herself had been with the spell she’d cast so no one would see the demon she’d thought she was. She’d thought that maybe Willow had learned better. That what had happened with the book would have curbed those impulsive urges. But it hadn’t. Willow saw a problem, realized there was magic that could help, and just did it without asking or thinking about the consequences. All that magic, and she had no real grounding in magical ethics. It was terrifying.

 _I’m going to have to talk to her about this again,_ she realized with a sinking feeling. Not right now. Not when there was an important and absolutely necessary spell they needed to do soon. But after that…. She didn’t want to think too much about it right now, but things were going to have to change.


	13. Chapter 13

_Why am I doing this?_ Giles asked himself for what had to have been the twentieth time since following Spike down into the sewers. The answer was the same as it had been all the other times. For Buffy. She’d entrusted Spike to his care, counting on him to keep him safe. So as much as he’d prefer to be taking the overground route, here he was, traipsing the sewers with a vampire rendered completely defenseless by the combination of slug and chip in his head.

At least the Sunnydale sewers were rather nice for what they were. The smell was, of course, atrocious, but the tunnels were wide, reasonably well lit, and there were walkways preventing the need to slog directly through the muck.

“Here,” Spike called out, turning down a narrow side passage. It was dry and led directly into the Magic Box’s basement.

“I really should put in a security door,” Giles muttered. He’d thought about it before – especially whenever he noticed a suspicious decrease in the supply of burba weed – but had never actually got around to it.

“Know a guy who could help with that,” Spike said, glancing back at him while brazenly stuffing burba weed into his pocket. “Bloke I’ve played poker with a time or t–”

He stopped suddenly, head tilting to the side and a handful of the herb falling to the floor. Then he cursed and rushed up the stairs.

 _Bloody hell,_ Giles thought, grabbing up a knife tucked away under some of the overstock. He didn’t know what Spike had heard, but unlike a certain bloody fool, he wasn’t going to rush up there with no way to defend himself.

He followed up the stairs and then into the training room. Spike was there, of course, along with Buffy, Willow, Tara, Dawn, and Riley. He barely noticed most of them, focusing on Willow’s utterly stricken look and Buffy….

 _My poor, dear girl._ Spike hadn’t been willing to tell him much, but it had been enough to know she’d gone through more than he could imagine. The pain and torment writ clear on her face told him even more.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Spike demanded.

And Buffy changed. The hunched, agonized young woman seemed to vanish as she strode over to Spike.

“Rehva,” she breathed, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. Then she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest.

As Giles watched them together, the last of his reservations melted away. He no longer cared that Spike was a vampire. His slayer was broken and in pain. Spike brought her peace.

And Giles would do his best to ensure nothing interfered with that.

 

**...**

 

Leather. Smoke. The air right before a summer thunderstorm. The earthy scent of vampire. She breathed it in, let it wash through her and ease the pain. Inhale. Exhale. Pack it all away. Hide the pain. Bury it deep. Ignore what Riley had said. What Willow had….

Senka was vaguely aware of Riley leaving. Good riddance. That guy was seriously weird with all his talk of…. As if two men could…. He took another deep breath and squeezed Rehva tight, easing up only a little at her breathy squeak. She liked that sort of thing, but they couldn’t exactly have sexy fun time right here while….

He was dimly aware of the other people in the store. Giles was saying something about wanting an answer to Spike’s question. Who? What? _Oh, right,_ he thought vaguely. Spike was Rehva, and she had asked….

Heated words that he couldn’t quite make out. Lots of anger and defensiveness. Rehva holding him tight and practically vibrating with rage.

Leather. Smoke. Summer thunderstorms. Rich, freshly turned earth. Deep breaths. In and out. _Buffy, Buffy, Buffy._ The others were talking about Buffy and what had just….

“You alright, love?”

The soft murmur of Rehva’s voice cut through the sea of noise, catching Senka’s attention and fully grounding him in the moment. He took one more deep breath, feeling steadier, then pulled back a little and flashed her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just….” He trailed off and shook his head, shivering slightly. He didn’t want to think about whatever it was that had bothered him. He smiled again before grabbing Rehva’s hand and turning to face the others. “So, we’re getting the slugs out, right?”

He wasn’t really sure just what had happened, but no one looked particularly happy. Giles had that tight-lipped disapproval thing going on while Dawn looked like she might start screeching at any minute. Willow was clearly sullen about something. And Tara…. Poor Tara was radiating misery.

 _Yeesh, take a personal moment with your girlfriend and everything goes nuts._ He shook off the thought and snapped his fingers in an attempt to get everyone’s attention. “Slugs. Out. Now, please.”

Willow blinked, shaking off her mood and plastering an obviously fake smile across her face. “Oh, right, um….” She glanced around and then gestured towards a circle of colored sand on the floor. “You two need to stand over there while Tara and I do the spell.”

Senka’s hand squeezed Rehva’s while the other absently pressed against his abdomen. Willow and spells. She’d just done that one that had…. He shuddered slightly, then shrugged at Rehva’s questioning look.

“Sounds pretty simple, I guess,” he said. “Ready to get these things out of our heads?”

“More than,” Rehva muttered, leading the way towards the circle.

 

**...**

 

Spike wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of Willow poking about in their heads with her magic, especially after that diagnostic spell she’d used on Senka. Not that it seemed to have been done wrong, mind. Just sat wrong with him, her doing that without asking and then blurting out what she’d discovered. If she was carelessly and impulsively flinging magic about like that, what else might she decide to do with it?

Course, even without that, she didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to magic. She’d buggered that “my will be done” spell up right proper, hadn’t she? Didn’t really matter though, honestly. They had to have the slugs out. And at least the other witch was helping out. Seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, that one.

He watched her as she and Willow lit some candles around the sand circle. Then they put a silver bowl down on the floor, joining their hands over it as they began to chant. Began sending their magic to poke about in his noggin. Like the Initiative with their scalpels and whatall. Like the slavers, shoving the slug into his ear to wriggle its way into his brain….

He could feel it, setting off a bit of a twinge. It knew something was up, the slug did. But since Spike was just stood about in a circle of sand with Senka, there was nothing it could actually do to stop things.

Then the chanting stopped, and the feeling went away. He heard two soft plops and an odd little ping. What was…? Two soft plops and an odd little ping. The plops had to be the slugs, but what would –

“Uh-oh.”

Uh-oh? Willow saying “uh-oh” did not bode well. He took a step towards her, but Senka strode past him, going right up to the witches.

“What is it?” Senka demanded. “Did it work? Are the slugs gone?”

Where the slugs gone? Two plops and a ping. Slugs were bloody well gone. Spike was sure of it. Two plops and a bloody ping. Only one thing floating about in either of their heads that would make that sound.

He wrapped his arms around himself, only vaguely aware as Willow babbled something about putting “it” back in. It. The chip. The chip was out. It was out. He was free.

And Willow wanted to put it back in. _Might be for the best,_ a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. If they all considered him safe…. _No!_ No, no, no. For the first time in roughly seven years, he was bloody well _free_. He wasn’t giving that up. He wasn’t–

“Rehva?”

His racing thoughts quieted at the sound of Senka’s voice. He was holding the silver bowl, and once he was sure he had Spike’s attention, he upended it. And then stomped down, smashing slugs and chip alike.

Gone. Just like that. Well and truly gone. Everything seemed to spin for a moment. Free. He was free. Senka had destroyed the chip, setting him free. Free to maim and kill. Free to feed. To slaughter his way through Sunnydale and drown in human blood, fresh and hot from the source. Free to….

Free to put the man he loved in a situation where he had to choose between stopping him or letting people die.

He took a slow, deep breath to steady himself and glanced around. Willow looked horrified. Tara anxious. Rupert had on his neutral face. The Little Bit was actually grinning. And then there was Senka. Trust. And a look of understanding, as if he knew all the confused thoughts swirling through Spike’s head. Knew that it felt like the walls were closing in all about him.

Senka gave a slow nod, his fingers flickering out a message. _Go. I’ll deal._

He went, bolting out into the main part of the shop and down to the sewers.

 

**...**

 

Xander wandered the night streets of Sunnydale, armed for bear. Or, well, vampire. A stake in hand, a string of holy water soaked garlic around his neck, and a cross in his pocket. Not that he was actively hunting Spike, exactly. Just trying to clear his head while prepared to run into a not-quite-so-impotent-anymore vampire that he’d spent a year mocking and insulting as impotent.

He’d come home from work to find a couple of messages on his answering machine from Willow. The first had been letting him know about the spell to take the slugs out of Buffy and Spike. The second had been a garbled message about how the chip was out, too, and Spike was on the loose. But he shouldn’t worry, because Buffy said it was okay. Yeah, no need to worry at all. Never mind that Buffy wasn’t exactly all there right now. Or that her track record when it came to vampires she cared about wasn’t exactly outstanding.

Vampires that she cared about…. As much as Xander would have liked to put his hands over his ears and chant “la-la-la, I can’t hear you” when it came to the idea of Buffy caring about Spike, he couldn’t deny what he’d seen. Buffy had put herself between Spike and Riley, protecting the vampire like he was something precious to her.

Poor Riley. Yeah, he’d been flaking out on them a little recently, but he’d been through a lot. He’d given up so much for Buffy. Been there for her through so many things, watching her back. He was honest. Straightforward. The kind of guy who would always be there for you when you needed it. He’d been there, even though he’d started thinking even before all this that Buffy didn’t really love him.

Xander had been working on a big speech about how Riley was the long haul and not Mr. Rebound, but it didn’t seem like he was going to be able to use it. Buffy had clearly moved on during the time she’d spent in that other dimension. She’d gone for the easy and familiar in a strange, lonely place. He couldn’t really blame her, but it didn’t make it right.

Riley was the biggest reason Xander had chosen this part of town for his head-clearing walk. The guy liked to set up quadrants and patrol schedules and was supposed to be around here tonight. If he could find him, maybe they could have some guy talk about this whole mess. And he could break the news about unleashed Spike to him. Assuming neither one of them ran into Spike before then.

“… don’t care it was only yesterday,” a familiar voice said from a nearby alley. “You need the money and the blood. Just take a sip, and it should be alright.”

Someone needed blood? Just take a sip? What the hell? Xander cautiously peered into the alley. He didn’t understand what he was seeing at first, and even when he did, he couldn’t quite believe it.

Riley was leaning against the wall, head thrown back and eyes closed in disturbing ecstasy as a vampire sank her fangs into the crook of his arm. He was going to stake her at any moment, right? This was just a trick to kill the vampire, right? Any moment and she’d be dust. Any moment now.

The moment didn’t come. Instead, the vampire pulled away after about half a minute and delicately wiped at her lips, completely undusty. Riley hadn’t even tried to stake her during the bite, and now that she was done…. He just pulled out his wallet and handed her a few twenties.

“You need to take better care of yourself, cowboy, your blood is getting a bit thin,” she said with an odd fondness in her voice as she casually tucked the money into her cleavage.

“Don’t worry about me,” Riley said as he rolled down his sleeve, hiding the bite. “I’ll rest up and have plenty of iron. I’ll be fine for our usual night.”

Xander hurried past the alleyway while they continued to talk, then ducked into a different one, trying to process what he’d just witnessed. He felt sick. He’d admired Riley. He’d looked up to him as an example of what a normal Joe could be. Of what Xander himself could be if he applied himself enough. And now this. How long had it been going on? Obviously since before Buffy had vanished through the portal if they had a usual night. Maybe that was why Buffy had started pulling away from Riley. She’d been able to subconsciously sense the essence of skankpire all over him.

He thought of his planned speech again and felt even sicker. He’d been ready to rake Buffy over the coals for taking Riley for granted, based just on the perceptions of a guy who had worked for the Initiative for at least a year or so before realizing there might be something fishy about the place.

Xander took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He couldn’t take this to Buffy, not yet anyway, but he wasn’t just going to let it slide. He had a new speech to work out, and Riley wasn’t going to like it.


	14. Chapter 14

Senka poked at his food, pushing the cooked veggies and thin strips of beef around on his plate with a fork. He’d made the meal himself, insisting on it when Tara had tried to be the one to cook. It was more Rehva’s thing than his, but he wasn’t exactly terrible at it and it had helped him feel closer to her while she was off doing… whatever it was she was doing right now. Which wasn’t killing. Senka knew that much, at least, and wasn’t really worried about his girlfriend now that she was both conscious and able to defend herself. He just missed her.

 _It’s only been a couple of hours,_ he reminded himself. A couple of hours since Rehva had run off to get her head together while Senka calmed everyone down. Willow had been freaking out about Rehva killing people, and Dawn had been freaking out because she thought Rehva was gone for good. But she wasn’t. She’d probably be out for the entire night, but then she’d either come to the house or go to the crypt for the day. They’d meet up and snuggle while trying to figure out their future together in this dimension. And maybe figure what to do about Mom.

Mom wanted to come home, but…. Well, talking about gutting the nurse with a trout and stuffing her with cornbread and cranberries wasn’t exactly the sanest thing ever. But it would be okay. Rehva had been with a crazy person before, so she’d know what to do. Once she was back and they’d had snuggle time, they’d get Mom and take care of her and –

“I, uh, I got all of your assignments while you were gone,” Willow suddenly said into the silence, smiling brightly. “And, and I took notes for you, in the classes we share.”

Classes? Notes? What? Senka stared blankly for a moment, trying to figure out what she was talking about. That apparently wasn’t the right response. Willow’s smile faltered while Dawn and Tara just sort of sat there looking awkward.

“I can help you study. Get you right back into the swing of things, it’ll be eas–”

“Sweetie,” Tara interrupted gently, “I don’t think… Senka is up to dealing with classes right now.”

Oh. Right. He’d been a student at the local college before…. He didn’t like thinking about before. He’d been a slave and now he wasn’t and…. He stood up abruptly, food barely touched.

“Where are you going?” Dawn asked, her voice a little shrill.

He forced himself to offer her a smile. “Not hungry anymore, and, um, I’m kind of tired. Could you wash up?”

Dawn swallowed and nodded jerkily. She was kind of pale and her eyes looked a little too large for her face. Poor kid. She’d been through a lot. It had only been a few days for her since they’d found out what was wrong with Mom, and then there was all the key stuff. He should try to comfort her. He knew that, but he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. Everything was strange here. All of his routines had been disrupted and right now was about when he and Rehva would usually go to bed. He needed to….

He murmured a thanks to Dawn, then fled up the stairs.

 

**...**

 

Dawn fought back tears as she rinsed and dried the dishes. Tara was washing them and silently fuming over the argument she’d had with Willow after Buffy had gone to bed. There had been a lot of weirdly quiet yelling about magic, and then Willow had stormed off to do some kind of research. Her parents had done stuff like that. The whispered, hissing yells as they tore into each other while trying to not be overheard. But she and Buffy had heard most of it anyway….

Except they hadn’t. Or, well, _she_ hadn’t. There hadn’t been a they, because she wasn’t real. She wasn’t real, but she _felt_ real. She felt like a real girl with a sick mother and a sister who was all weird from some kind of serious trauma. A real girl who had been told she wasn’t. She wanted to scream and cry and insist it was all a horrible dream, that she was _real_ and always had been. She was real. She was real and she had to be strong for Mom and Buffy. Because she was _real_ and she….

A plate fell from her hand and shattered against the floor. It was too much. It was all just too much, and she started to cry, heaving, wracking sobs that felt like they were going to rip her apart.

Then warm arms, the hands still soapy, suddenly wrapped around her, drawing her into a hug.

Dawn gave up any attempt at being strong and just let herself cry as Tara murmured soft words of comfort.

 

**...**

 

He stared down into his drink as if the secrets of the universe would be revealed if he just watched long enough. He’d fall into the depths and become one with the music of the spheres, everything opened up for him in a cosmic orgy of understanding….

Spike shook his head with a snort and downed his drink. Bugger all that rot. Seemed right boring, it did, having all the answers. Would be nice to have some sort of understanding of himself, though, wouldn’t it? He’d gone through six years as a bloody slave and it was getting back home that had him the most unsure of himself.

Hadn’t got around to bleaching it just yet, but he’d cut his hair, and he was back into usual tight, black jeans. He should have felt more himself, but instead, everything just seemed… off.

God, he felt almost as adrift as when he’d got the bloody chip stuffed into his noggin. The sodding thing was _out_ now! He ought to have been seducing some sweet little honey off into a dark corner so he could drain her dry. If he was careful, Senka would never know. Assuming Senka would even still want him now they were back home. Eventually, he’d go back to being Buffy. And yeah, Buffy had fallen for him, but that had been in another world, far from the judging eyes of her mates. She’d heal here, and that was a bloody good thing, but would she want him after?

Cecily, Dru, Buffy. No one ever wanted to keep him. He just wanted to be kept. Was that too much to sodding ask?

“Hey there, hot stuff,” a woman said, cutting into his maudlin thoughts.

Spike glanced up at her. She was a pretty thing, long chestnut locks, dark eyes a fella could lose himself in, and face made up just right to enhance her delicate features. She was a hungry thing. He could feel it coming off of her in waves. The need for attention. Just a look and he could have her eating out his hand like a little bird. So easy, and the temptation was there….

“Sod off,” he said shortly before signaling to the bartender for a refill.

“ _What?_ ”

“I said sod off,” he repeated.

Maybe Senka would never know, but _he_ would. Spike would know that he’d betrayed the person he loved, and that wasn’t part of who he was. He felt something settle inside of him at that thought. Everything was strange and confusing, but no matter how he reinvented himself, one thing remained the same. He was, ever and always, love’s bitch.

 

**...**

_The garden is sleeping._ The thought whispered through Senka’s mind as he stood beside one of Lady Sasszan’s fallow vegetable gardens.

“Spring will come soon, though, won’t it?” Rehva said, coming to stand beside him.

Her body was different now, showing the curve of hips and the swell of breasts that her body had lacked for whatever reason. A quick look showed that Senka’s own body was different, too. He was a man in form as well as spirit. It should have been strange, but it just felt right and natural. This was who he was. This was who Rehva was.

“It will, but the potatoes will never grow here,” he said. The words spilled out on their own, without any input from him, but he had a vague idea of what they meant. So many potatoes, but all part of the same plant. There was something there. Something….

“Then let’s go elsewhere, shall we, pet?”

They walked together, and the world changed after a few steps, becoming one of the Sunnydale cemeteries. There was another him there, this one with a female body. He… she?... was surrounded by dozens of vampires, including a vamped out male Rehva. They ran at each other, coming together in a clash of fist and fang and stake, moving in a primal dance of death. It was terrible and beautiful. Repellent and enticing. Senka found himself licking his lips and shivering with sudden desire while putting himself between it all and Rehva, trying to keep her safe.

Finally, after a moment that lasted eons, it ended with the stake pressed to that Rehva’s ( _Spike._ _She… he’s Spike. And that’s Buffy_ ) chest while his fangs were centimeters from piercing Buffy’s throat. They stood there, still as statues, before suddenly bursting into motion again. They fought together then against the other vampires, moving as two parts of a beautiful, savagely graceful whole.

Senka swallowed hard and turned away from the violence, Rehva following by his side. They were still in the cemetery, but the steps and front of her old high school, Hemery, were there, too. A young Buffy sat on the steps in a cheerleader outfit, innocent and contemplating a lollipop. There was a Spike there, too, sitting beside her while reading out loud from a book of poetry. A pair of stuffed piggies sat comfortably in his lap.

Senka took a step towards them, but the feral vampire Spike rushed past and attacked the one of the stairs, piercing him and drawing him inside, flesh and bone and muscle along with blood. The innocent girl Buffy just watched the entire thing, eyes wide with curiosity instead of horror.

When he was done, the vampire stood up and wiped his mouth before regarding Senka with bright blue eyes looking out of a human face. Danger and violence married to sensitivity and gentleness. He slowly held out his hand, but not to Senka.

“No,” Senka whispered, voice tight with fear as Rehva moved towards Spike. “No, you can’t. Please! I… I don’t want to be alone.”

Rehva stopped and tilted her head slightly before reaching out to stroke his cheek. “Never happen, love. For every part of you, there’s a part of me. Don’t really matter if it’s all or one, does it?”

Then she moved away and into Spike’s embrace. He was almost tender as his fangs sank into the soft skin of her throat and they merged into one. Spike changed again, a slight change of his stance that added a hint of femininity without really making him any less masculine. His eyes changed too, the intensity subtly enhanced by just the right amount of makeup.

All or one. Rehva or Spike, it didn’t matter, there would always be someone for….

Cheerleader Buffy stood, leaving the safety of the high school steps to be in the graveyard, Slayer Buffy suddenly right there beside her. They held hands before reaching their free ones out towards Senka. All he had to do was take them in his own. Just take a step towards them and….

Her eyes slowly drifted open. She was in her bedroom and for the first time in years, she felt… whole. It wasn’t perfect. In fact, it felt like she was only held together with tape and chewing gum, but it was a type of wholeness, and she was taking it.

Buffy dragged herself out of bed and started getting dressed. She felt confused and fragile and couldn’t think too closely about any of it. That was okay, though. It was fine. She was fine. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Spike was out there somewhere. And she had to hunt him down.


	15. Chapter 15

It was nearly dawn when Spike stumbled towards his crypt, utterly exhausted. He wasn’t used to being nocturnal anymore, and he’d crammed the night full of things. Breaking into Giles’s flat to use his shower for bleaching, getting something special made for Senka, and tracking down some leads on trading in the gems from the other dimension for some proper dosh.

Now all he wanted to do was crawl into a nice, warm bed with Senka, but that was going to have to wait. He hadn’t the time to get to Revello Drive before the sun came up, nor the energy to play Dances with Sunbeams.

He was going to miss being out and about in direct sunlight. He idly wondered how long it would take for his freckles to fade away, then shook off the thought as he opened up the crypt door and stepped inside for the second time that night. It should have been dark and empty, the way he’d left it after changing into his jeans and t-shirt, but all of the candles were lit and there was Senka, sitting in the armchair with his knees hugged up tight against his chest.

“Rehva!” he called out, jumping up and taking a step towards him. “I… I mean Spike. I’ve been looking… for….” Senka’s words trailed off as he stared at Spike, his eyes going wide and a little glassy.

Bloody hell. Last Senka had seen him, he’d had long, caramel brown hair and now it was short and white. He’d thought that might be a problem, and he’d planned for it. But he’d also planned to work himself up to things and introduce the change to Senka in just the right way.

Spike shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the little trinket he’d had made, the voice of his insecurities screaming away in his head. _Senka won’t like it. It’s stupid and poncy. He’ll laugh and throw it back at you, you worthless git. Just –_

“Here,” he said, shoving the internal voice aside as he held the bracelet out towards Senka.

He’d called in some debts to get it made in just a few hours. A slender braid of his hair, cut into three equal lengths with each end capped in gold. More gold, formed into a delicate web, connected the ends to each other and to the clasp.

“I, uh, had this made for you. I know it’s stupid. It’s…. Nothing to it, just meant to be a jo–”

His nervous babbling was cut off by Senka snatching the bracelet away and grabbing him up in a bone-jolting hug. Warm and strong and a touch painful. Home. After a few moments of just basking in each other, Senka pulled away with a sniffle and wiped away the moisture gathering at his eyes. Then he cocked back his fist and punched Spike right in the nose.

“ _Ow_! What the bloody….” Spike glared at Senka, feeling betrayed and bewildered. That wasn’t the sort of thing Senka did. That was more of a…. “Buffy?”

He… she? … gave a weak little smile. “Yeah. Kind of. I… I think.” She sniffled and gave a mocking laugh. “I don’t know. I just don’t….” She shook her head and put the bracelet carefully into her pocket before taking up a fighting stance. “Fight me.”

She was starting to come back to herself, but she wasn’t fully there yet. It was a good thing. It was good she was coming back. It was…. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d fallen in love with Buffy as Buffy, and that’s when she had fallen for him. Senka had been able to say the words and had been fearless and bold in showing his feelings, but those parts of Buffy didn’t need to be unburied for them to be together.

“Please.”

Spike opened his eyes at the sound of her voice, head tilting to the side as he studied her. She sounded desperate, and her body language…. Her hands were balled up into fists and she bounced on her toes, eager for a brawl. He knew what she needed, what she was asking for. A bit of mindless violence with a safe opponent. Someone who could fight back but wouldn’t maim or kill her if she lost her focus.

He moved as he reached a decision, lunging towards her and smashing his fist into her face. Part of him felt terrible for hitting her, but the rest…. He laughed in wild glee as she retaliated, and they began to trade blows. God, it felt good to really fight her again and do more than dodge and throw blows he knew would never land. It truly hit him, then, even more than when he’d thought about eating one of the girls at the Bronze. He wasn’t helpless anymore.

Kick, block, dodge, punch. The moves to their own personal dance, forever changing yet always the same. The music was their breathing and the sound of her heart. Quips thrown back and forth as they lunged and circled, flesh striking flesh. And then she was on him, pinning him down with a strength greater than his own, and her mouth was pressed to his, tongue delving in to forcefully claim him as her property. He could smell her arousal, could almost taste it as he willingly surrendered himself to her.

When she ended the kiss, lifting herself enough to gaze down at him, they were both panting for breath. She kept her eyes on his as she reached down to gently stroke his cheek.

“I want you,” she whispered, and for a horrible moment, he thought she was going to say it couldn’t be. Then her hands slid under his shirt and along his sides. “Can I have you?”

He swallowed hard and shivered at the feel of her hands exploring his body. It hadn’t been all that long since they’d last made love, but everything seemed strange and new at the moment. Like they were hovering over the edge of a howling abyss.

“Always,” he breathed.

Her warm, strong hands immediately blurred into action, making short work of undoing his belt and zipper. Her knee-length skirt and lack of knickers meant it was only a moment more before they were skin to skin, her moist heat pressed tight against him. He thought it would be like it always was when she hadn’t access to her equipment, that she’d thrust and rub against him until they both lost themselves in the pleasure of it all. But she stared into his eyes again, and it was Senka and Buffy both in there as she slid forward guiding him towards….

Was she…? She couldn’t be…. “Buffy?” he whispered, voice choked as he tried to ask if she was sure.

In answer, she thrust down on him, sharing that part of herself with him for the first time in years.

 

**...**

 

She was Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the safest she’d felt since coming home was here, curled up naked with an equally naked vampire in a crypt. Her body felt strange and foreign after… after what they’d just done. But also kind of right. God, it was all so confusing. She closed her eyes and buried her nose against Spike’s neck, breathing in the comforting smell of him. Rehva, Spike, William. All that and more, and right now, he was the only thing in her world that wasn’t confusing.

Which… _was_ kind of confusing, actually. She was the Vampire Slayer. She wasn’t supposed to find happiness in the arms of a vampire, especially not one without a soul. Just look at the horrible mess she’d made by dating one _with_ a soul. This thing with Spike, it was just insane. It was….

It was what she wanted. What she _needed,_ and Senka was strong enough inside of her for his voice to overpower the one whispering that this was all just wrong. That her friends and Giles and her family would never approve.

 _He’s mine,_ she fiercely told that whisper as she squeezed Spike hard enough to make him grunt in pain. Then he gave a soft little sigh of contentment before snuggling even closer.

She was tired of having things taken away from her. They’d taken her freedom. They’d taken her ability to have children. What they’d put her through had even taken away a huge chunk of her identity. She was going to take it back. She was Buffy, but she wasn’t going to give up Senka. And she wasn’t going to give up Spike.

And because of all of that, the Buffy that just gave in to what other people wanted was _never_ coming back.

 

**...**

 

Riley was in the middle of his morning push-ups when someone knocked at his door. He froze, then slowly got to his feet, grabbing a combat knife before looking through the peephole. A wave of relief, excitement, and dread washed through him at the sight of Graham on the other side. There was only one reason for him to be there. They’d analyzed the samples from the key, and now he had backup to help him contain the threat. Or destroy it.

“How many men did you bring with you?” Riley asked, leaving the door open as he turned away to start sorting through his weapons. “We should go for non-lethal, when it comes to the creature’s protectors.” He grabbed up a few gas grenades and set them out on his bed along with several tranquilizer darts.

“Riley.”

“They can’t help themselves and should be treated as brainwashed civilians.” More darts of various sizes along with several different guns. He was vaguely aware of Graham standing near him, seeming uncomfortable. “Willow and Buffy will be the biggest threats –”

“Riley.”

“We just need to keep Willow from speaking or making gestures. I can take out Buf–”

“ _Riley!_ ”

He finally stopped talking and looked at his friend. The other man was stiff and definitely uncomfortable. Riley felt a sinking feeling. Damn it.

“No one else came with you, did they? Despite the proof, no one else was willing to deal with something pretending to be a fourteen-year-old girl.”

“There is no proof,” Graham said bluntly. “The tests all came back as a normal human. Because she _is_ a normal human.”

Riley stared at his friend, unable to believe what he was hearing. No, that couldn’t be. The key wasn’t human. He knew it wasn’t. How deep did the conspiracy go? He’d thought it was just here in Sunnydale. Maybe there was some kind of magic worked into her blood that affected people in close proximity to it.

“You need to leave this place, Riley,” Graham continued. “All the insanity here, it’s getting to you. Making you jump at shadows that aren’t even there.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Graham was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to convince him. He was alone in this. Completely and utterly alone until he took the key out by himself. But simply containing or destroying it wasn’t going to be enough. He knew that now.

“Look, the unit I’m with, it could really use you. It’s straight up army, not government. We don’t care about how the monsters are put together. We just stop them.” Graham held out a business card that Riley automatically took. “Think about it, okay?”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving Riley with his thoughts and the beginnings of a plan.


	16. Chapter 16

Xander was pretty sure there was some kind of bro code about not narcing on a guy to his girlfriend if he was caught cheating. Of course, since he mostly hung out with women and an old British guy, he wasn’t exactly in on a lot of “bro” type things. Riley was, though, and the former commando was his friend. Right?

 _Not really,_ Xander admitted to himself as he slipped into the Magic Box with the usual Saturday morning box of donuts. Buffy was his friend, and he only knew Riley through her, as her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend now. If anyone deserved any bro action from him, it was her, which meant he needed to tell her about the vampire hookers before confronting Riley about it. If it was even his place to confront him at all.

He put the donuts down on the research table, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to figure everything out. He felt disillusioned. Like he’d pulled away the curtain to find out that his hero was just some old guy using smoke and mirrors to seem more powerful than he was. Riley was fit and strong and competent. A natural leader at the ripe old age of twenty-four or so. Really manly, but not afraid to be sensitive and caring.

Or at least, that’s what Xander had always thought about him before. He was just a shlubby nineteen-year-old, and the other man had seemed like the perfect model of what he should strive to be. Not the intelligence of Giles that he could never hope to match. And not an out-of-shape, drunken mess like his father.

He forced the thoughts away, slapping on a happy smile when Anya looked his way after finishing with a customer. Her return smile lifted his spirits enough to make his genuine. A quick glance around turned it into a frown, though. Other than himself and Anya, the only ones there were Giles, Dawn, and Tara.

The shy little witch was looking pretty miserable as she poked through the box of donuts. Since he’d been sure to get plenty of the lemon cream filled ones she liked, he was betting it wasn’t the pastry selection bothering her. Before he could ask about it, Buffy and Spike came up from the basement.

“Ah… Senka,” Giles said, a book in one hand and jelly donut in the other. “We’ve –”

“Buffy,” she interrupted with a wan little smile. “It’s…. I’m not fully….” She stopped to take a deep breath and grab Spike’s hand, then continued. “You all can call me Buffy now.”

She did seem a little bit more herself now, though the handholding with the undead was seriously un-Buffy. Except for when it had been Angel. Or that one time when Willow’s spell had made her and Spike all disgustingly lovey-dovey.

He wished he could dismiss what he was seeing as another spell gone wrong, but this seemed more real. Something deeper with them both getting what they needed from each other. And that was really terrifying, considering Spike had neither a soul nor a chip to keep him in line.

“It’s good to have you back, Buffster,” Xander said. “But, um… time to address the bleached elephant in the room, don’t you think? Spike is a vampire. And not a cute, neutered little puppy of a vampire anymore, either.”

“Um, maybe it isn’t such a good idea to say things like that now that he isn’t chipped,” Anya pointed out as she came over to him.

“That… is a very good point that my brain really should have thought of before letting words out of my mouth,” he admitted, “but what I said remains valid.” He shot a glance towards Spike. The vampire looked annoyed, but not like he was about to attack or anything. “Spike is a vampire, and vampires eat people.”

He expected Buffy to try to defend why Spike was there and all undusty. Or maybe to say he was right and send Spike away with a warning that he’d be staked if he ever came back to Sunnydale. Instead, she just rolled her eyes.

“Spike, are you going to start back up with killing and eating random innocent people?” she asked, sounding bored and vaguely annoyed.

Spike eyeballed Xander before answering. “Tempted to show the li’l boy why you should never pull a tiger’s tail, but no, I won’t be killing any humans. Not even him.” Then he muttered, “Don’t mean I won’t box his ears right proper if he gives me too much sass, though.”

“See? Not a problem. Now, we need to –”

“What is it about vampires?” Xander blurted out, interrupting Buffy. “You with Angel and now Spike, and Riley with vampire hookers….”

Buffy’s eyes widened slightly at the words he hadn’t meant to say – not like that, anyway – but she seemed more confused than upset as she looked over at Giles. “Vampire hookers? What?”

“Not hookers,” Spike said in obvious disgust. “Suckers. That lot goes about biting people for money. Harmless for the most part, though sometimes you get a wolf in with the sheep.”

“He’s right about that,” Giles confirmed. “I, uh, wasn’t aware that we had any here in Sunnydale, but I probably wouldn’t have bothered to mention them if I had been. They mostly stay together in, ah, brothels. It can be quite dangerous, but they do tend to self-police against those who break the rules.”

“Huh.” Buffy shrugged and shook her head. “Later. We have more important things to worry about right now, but after all of this key stuff gets figured out,” she tossed a reassuring smile towards Dawn, “I can meet with the vampires running the brothels. Make sure they keep me in the loop about any bad little vampires in need of a staking.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say about this? Riley is getting it on with prostivamps, and you’re just shrugging it off?”

Buffy sighed, sounding tired. “Six years, Xander. Six. Years. From my point of view, Riley and I haven’t been together for a long time. I’m with Re…. I’m with _Spike_ now.”

“Which is good, ‘cause Riley’s a skeevy jerkface,” Dawn muttered.

“But why?” Xander demanded. “What do you even see in him?”

Okay, so Riley had turned out to be not all that great, but he was at least human. What was it about vampires that she apparently couldn’t resist? Was it even a vampire thing, or some sort of Spike thing? As much as he hated to, he had to admit that the other man was all nicely compact and muscle-y. Like a leopard.

“I imagine the sex is pretty good,” Anya commented. “Vampires have a shorter recovery time, and –”

“Ahn!” he shouted, his voice mostly overwhelming Dawn’s nervous little giggle. “Okay, first, so not the time and place for this. And second, Buffy and Spike are _not_ ….”

“Pretty good doesn’t even _begin_ to cover how awesome the sex is,” Buffy said with a fond little smile that was seriously making Xander kind of queasy. “But that’s something to talk about later when there aren’t kids around.”

“Hey, I’m fourteen,” Dawn protested. “Not a kid.”

Buffy ignored her, eyes fixed directly on Xander. “I’m the Slayer, and this is my town. That means all of the vampires here are _mine_ and what happens to them is my decision. If you don’t like it, then you’re welcome to leave.”

She didn’t sound upset or defensive, just firm. Xander wanted to believe it was some kind of brainwashing, but he knew better. This was how Buffy always got when she was pushed into a corner and had to dig deep down to draw on her core of strength. The only difference was, right now that strength was right there, bubbling under the surface within easy reach.

“Well, what’s it going to be? Are you in this with me, or do you want out?”

Xander closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He didn’t like Spike, and he didn’t want him anywhere around Buffy. But Buffy was his friend and deserved his respect and support. So, the question here was, did he hate Spike more than he cared about Buffy?

“I’m in.”

 

**...**

 

Buffy wandered through the cemetery closest to the hospital, lost in thought and absently twirling a stake in her hand. It had been a long time since she’d last been part of a Scooby meeting. She’d spent less time as an active Scooby than she had as a slave. Fitting back into her role just wouldn’t have worked, so she hadn’t even tried. She’d taken charge, putting Xander firmly in his place before telling everyone what they would be doing. Mostly research, with Tara taking Dawn to see Mom at one point while Buffy and Spike had a nap in the training room to make up for the lack of sleep.

Now that it was dark out, the soft-spoken woman was keeping Dawn company at home while Buffy and Spike patrolled on their way to the hospital before visiting hours were over.

“I treated them like house slaves,” she said quietly. “This is how I want it done. You do this bit of research, and you do this.”

Spike snorted in obvious disagreement and shook his head. He was right beside her, keeping to her left so they both had their dominant sides clear.

“No, love. You’re the Slayer, not them. It’s your calling to keep the nasties at bay. They want in on that, they need to bloody well do it on _your_ terms. Even the Watcher is meant to be a support system, not your keeper, despite what the Council of Stuffed Suits seems to think.”

He had a point there. She was the Slayer and the Scooby meetings were slayer business. So maybe it had been less like an owner making demands and more like a boss declaring how the company was going to run. Like she’d told Xander, any of them could have left if they didn’t like how she was doing things now. Thinking of it that way eased some of the tension she was feeling.

“I’m never going to be the Buffy they remember. Not entirely. I’ve grown up too much. I’ve….” She shuddered and had to swallow to moisten her throat before she could go on. “I’ve been through too much. I can’t….”

Spike stopped and gently grabbed her shoulder. “That’s enough of that, love. Life is change. Sometimes you grow, sometimes you become less, and sometimes you do both at once. Either way, you’re moving. Being. And anyone what doesn’t want you to do that can sod off and go bugger themselves, because they don’t really give a toss about you.”

“What about you?” she asked, feeling oddly vulnerable. Angel had said he loved her, but looking back with older eyes, it seemed like he’d wanted to wrap her up in cotton and put her on a pedestal, unchanging. And Riley…. She didn’t think he’d ever actually truly seen her as she was. “I’ve changed since you fell in love with me. And now I’m changing again.”

“Yeah, so? Told you, life is change. I want a living, changing you, not some bloody statue.” He pulled her close, then twirled her around, dancing with her in the middle of the cemetery. “A good spot of violence will do us both some good. We’ll find something to kill, then go visit your mum. Sound good?”

It sounded wonderful.

 

**...**

 

Ben was outside having a much-needed fresh air break when he saw Buffy come out of the hospital, hand in hand with a white-haired man in black clothing. Poor girl. It was tough, dealing with a sick loved one. At least she seemed to have a good support system. That was absolutely vital in situations like hers. He started towards her, intending to offer some reassurances about her mother’s chances, but vague flashes of memory stirred.

Glory’s scabby little minions at the zoo. Buffy trying to interfere. A giant snake that never came back. He tried to fight it, but his thoughts swirled and broke apart as the hell god within rose to the surface.


	17. Chapter 17

“You!”

The word was punctuated by a punch to the face that sent Buffy staggering back. What the hell? What had just…? She and Spike had just been in to visit her mother, and now this?

Before she could figure anything out, she was grabbed by the shoulders and whirled out of the way of another blow. That led smoothly into being picked up and launched at her attacker, a blonde woman Buffy now recognized as Glory. She knocked her down to the ground, pinning her before unleashing a volley of brutal punches to the middle of Glory’s face.

The instant she felt the woman tense under her, Buffy moved, rolling out of range of retaliation. Her hand shot up in the air, fingers flashing through familiar patterns to set up a vague strategy for her and Spike. It was like being in the arena again; Buffy could almost hear a crowd cheering them on. Senka and Rehva, working together like a pair of wolves going after a moose. Or maybe a grizzly, ‘cause whatever this woman was, she wasn’t prey.

The skirt Senka was wearing was longer than what he was used to and got a little in the way, but he still managed a high kick to their opponent’s chin. She staggered back, but it didn’t give her any room to breathe. Rehva was right there, alternating punches and kicks before dropping down for a leg sweep. The instant the woman was down, Spike surged to his feet and whirled away, coat billowing out dramatically behind him.

Buffy moved back in just as the woman started to get up, kicking her in the face. He knew he should be more worried, maybe even terrified, but Senka’s heart was racing in excitement. He lived for this, fighting against a skilled opponent where there was a real chance that they could lose if they weren’t at their best. They could do this. They could win. They’d beat this crazy bitch, and then he’d pull Rehva close for a victory kiss, and once they were somewhere more private, he’d lay her down and….

Glory grabbed his leg and shoved him away, the force of it sending him to the ground with the wind knocked out of him. Then Glory grabbed Buffy by the shirt and slammed her against the front of the hospital.

“Do you think this is some kind of game?” Glory yelled. “You don’t just go around hitting people!” She backhanded Buffy across the face. “And you don’t kill their snakes. It was you, wasn’t it? I have a time limit here, you know! Why do you kee-”

She was cut off by Spike grabbing her from behind, his fangs sinking into her throat.

 

**...**

 

Riley pulled up across from Buffy’s house, engine idling as he stared out at it. The lights were on, confirmation that someone was still there. Tara had answered when he’d called and had told him Buffy wasn’t home. She might be now. Either way, it didn’t matter. The gas grenades he had should be powerful enough to knock out even a slayer, and if not, he had the tranq gun as backup.

It wasn’t a plan he was particularly proud of. A sneak attack against women and what was masquerading as a child was pretty much the definition of cowardly. Unfortunately, he didn’t really have any other options. Not if he wanted to save everyone.

 _Did_ he want to save everyone? His hands tightened on the steering wheel as that thought circled through his mind. There was a part of him that didn’t want to. That just wanted to tell all of Sunnydale to go to Hell while he went off with Graham to actually do something useful. But….

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t know why he was immune to the effects of the key, but he was. That meant he had a duty to do something about it.

He shifted his foot from the brake to the gas pedal, pulling into the driveway. Only a few seconds later, he was out and throwing a heavy rock through the window to make an opening for a grenade.

 

**...**

 

The circle was drawn and the raspberry leaves set just so in place of the bitter gourd called for by the base spell. It was supposed to enhance and speed up the natural regenerative powers of the human liver. With the substitutions and tweaks Willow had made, it should regrow the uterus of the spell’s target.

Should…. That was the key word, wasn’t it? The spell she’d done before _should_ have worked to open up a portal to get Buffy back. Instead, it had blown up in her face and left Buffy stranded there long enough to lose part of herself.

 _My fault,_ she thought in misery. She’d done the math. Based on what her diagnostic spell had told her, Buffy would have still been intact if they’d all worked on the spell together the morning after Willow had found it. If she hadn’t just impulsively done that spell…. If she hadn’t….

 _Isn’t this the exact same kind of thing?_ a small voice whispered in the back of her head.

Willow took a slow, deep breath and closed her eyes. No. It wasn’t the same. She’d been impulsive and stupid before. She knew it. This time, though, she’d spent a day researching the spell she was going to use and how to alter it to be what she wanted. She was prepared. And as for the second spell….

She opened her eyes and looked over at the bag of dried flowers she’d need for the other spell she had planned. That one she’d found in a book, no alterations needed, and it was even in English. All it really required was the Lethe’s Bramble and her will. She’d fix the mistake she’d made, and then she’d get rid of the memory of all of this. It would be perfect.

No one would remember that Buffy and Spike had gone to that other dimension, and they wouldn’t remember the time they’d spent there. Riley wouldn’t remember about Dawn, so he’d go back to normal and he and Buffy would be back together. No one would know about the mistake Willow had made, and Tara and Giles wouldn’t be mad at her.

She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. Tara…. Pain and resentment bubbled through her at the thought of her girlfriend. Tara should have been there with her, helping with the spells, but Willow knew she’d just object and try to stop her. Tara didn’t trust her with magic anymore.

 _Like she’s never made any kind of mistake. Like, oh, I don’t know, blinding us all to demons._ She’d made a mistake out of fear, and they’d all moved on from it. But Willow made a mistake, and suddenly everything she did was being scrutinized and judged.

She sighed and forced herself to let go of the anger. It didn’t matter. She’d use the Lethe’s Bramble and everyone would go back to how they’d been before Buffy went through the portal. Including herself.

That meant she had to do the other spell first, and it was going to take a while to cast, especially since she was doing it alone. _You can do this,_ she told herself as she sat down in the center of the circle. It was going to work. She could do this, and everything would be okay again.

She took a deep breath and began to chant.

 

**...**

 

Almost like biting into a tree, it was, but Spike was able to force his fangs into the bitch’s throat. The blood that welled up and into his mouth had the expected foulness of a powerful demon, but there was an odd undercurrent of human. And the strength of it…. Giddiness and nausea roiled through him, weakening his grip just as she reached back to grab him and fling him aside.

Over a century of being a scrapper had taught him a lot of things, including how to fall, but he was too disoriented to pull out any of his tricks. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that made his vision white out for a moment. The woman was on him before he could recover, lifting him up with a hand clamped firmly around his throat, cutting off his airflow. _Don’t need to breathe, you poncy git,_ he reminded himself, trying to stave off panic as he clawed ineffectually at her hand. Bloody hell, what was the sodding bint made of?

“You’re a vampire,” she said, eyes narrowing in disgust. “I’m running out of time to find my key, and you’re forcing me to waste it on something as lowly as a _vampire_!”

The hand squeezed, threatening to break bone. Terror even stronger than the atavistic fear of suffocation sizzled through him. He could survive a broken neck, but it could lead to paralysis even worse than what he’d experienced before. He twisted and kicked, desperately trying to free himself without much hope of success. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy pulling a knife out of her boot. She’d gotten bloody brilliant with the things over the years, and the sight of her with one calmed a lot of the panic.

He didn’t stop fighting, though. A quick sign of, _tough skin_ , followed by an intense struggle. He kept the bitch’s focus on him long enough for Buffy to get into position, kicking her in the face just as his partner jabbed at the back of her neck. The woman’s eyes widened in absolute horror, but her grip didn’t weaken. She slowly reached behind her with her free hand, pulling forward a clump of hair that had been sliced through by the knife.

There was a scream of incoherent rage, and Spike suddenly found himself launched towards the pavement. The sickening crunch of bone on pavement was the last he was aware of before unconsciousness took him.

 

**...**

 

Even before they’d officially started dating, Tara and Willow had spent Saturday nights practicing magic together. This one, though…. Tara was alone with Dawn at the Summers house, keeping her company until Buffy came home from patrolling. Willow had been invited over, but she’d refused, saying she needed to study.  She could have studied here just as easily, but she was still upset over the argument about magic. Honestly, Tara was, too.

She knew Willow was a good person, but her ethics…. It made sense, really, considering her parents. Tara had met them, once. They were nice enough, especially when compared to her own family, but they seemed to expect perfect behavior while dismissing anything they didn’t like as a “phase”. Even their relationship — while not apparently frowned on — had been treated as some kind of political statement more than anything. Results seemed to be what mattered to them, more than the way they were reached.

Tara bit her lip as she thought about the situation. She’d been teaching Willow what she knew, but she’d been letting the other woman take the lead. Maybe… maybe she needed to step up and insist on teaching ethics? She’d tried to explain why using magic on people without permission was bad, but she hadn’t been able to find the right way to make her point. Maybe she needed to start with the childhood lessons from her mother?

“Tara?” Dawn was standing in front of her, holding a bowl of popcorn. “Ready for the movie?”

“O-oh, yeah.” She patted the spot on the couch beside her, then picked up the remote for the VCR. She’d already put The Last Unicorn in for them to watch.

She’d just hit the play button when there was a sudden sound of breaking glass as something smashed in through the window. Then everything happened at once. Dawn started screaming as a rock hit the floor, followed by a small round object that started releasing some kind of gas. Tara was on her feet, ready to cast a spell, as a man burst in through the door. His face was partially obscured, but what she could see looked familiar along with the build. And the aura….

Was that… Riley? What? Why would he…? The confusion cost her just enough time for the gas to start affecting her. She fell to the ground, her vision dimming as Riley walked past her to get to Dawn.


	18. Chapter 18

A wild drumbeat of pain throbbed through Spike in vicious counterpoint to the horrible burning in his gut. Formless noise that might have been words swirled around him, nudging and jabbing, pulling him towards consciousness. There was a moan from some poor, wretched sod, and after a moment, he realized the sound was coming from himself. Bruises and torn flesh and broken bones. And the terrible itchy pain of healing that seemed to be working a bit faster than the norm, a hornets nest whipped up into a frenzy.

_“…ike… up… ome on…”_

Buffy. That was Buffy’s voice. He couldn’t make out all she was saying, but he knew it was her. What was…? Right, they’d been fighting someone. A woman stronger and tougher than the both of them, and likely about to try pounding them into a pulp. He struggled up to his hands and knees but couldn’t manage anything beyond that. The world spun in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and his mouth started watering unpleasantly. _Oh, god…._ He gagged and retched as something vile forced its way up his throat.

“Spike!” Buffy knelt down beside him, her hand resting comfortingly on his back.

“Thought… thought I’d left that sort of thing behind along with the pulse,” he muttered shakily. There was a small puddle of something dark red and tarrish on the pavement in front of him. Seemed like he’d absorbed what he could from the woman’s blood, but his demonic energies hadn’t been able to burn away the rest. A quick glance showed that the woman herself wasn’t just stood about, waiting. She’d buggered off at some point. “What happened?”

“She started yelling about how I ruined her hair,” Buffy said as she helped him up to his feet. Her nose crinkled up in an adorable mix of confusion, annoyance, and relief. “Then she, uh, stormed off after throwing me against an ambulance.”

Spike blinked at that and shook his head. Not his best decision ever, since it set the world to spinning again. At least now the bitch’s blood was out of him, the feeling of being invaded by a bloody horde of wasps was starting to fade. He took several slow, deep breaths, steadying himself.

“Well, then, least we know how to keep the lopsided bint at bay, don’t we?” He grinned at her questioning look. “Run at her with scissors and spray paint. Maybe some sandpaper to ruin her manicure. Threaten to muss her up a bit, and off she’ll go.”

“I don’t know, sandpaper manicures are probably all the rage,” Buffy quipped with a slight smile. Then they both went quiet for a moment.

“She the one after li’l sis?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she answered with a sigh. “And we’re going to have to figure out what to do about her. But for now….” She pulled him close and let him lean on her strength for a moment. “We need to get you home. Ancient primordial evil doesn’t seem to have agreed with you.”

 _Home…._ The word conjured the other dimension. Time spent with Buffy and then Senka in the arenas and the gladiator house. Wandering Lady Sasszan’s holdings together when they weren’t training. He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. He had the crypt, of course, but that wasn’t home.

“Where’s home?”

“Anywhere that we can be together,” Buffy said softly. “And right now, that’s Mom’s house.”

 

**...**

 

She’d lost Dawn. She’d been trusted to keep her safe, but she’d failed. She’d lost Dawn. That thought circled through Tara’s head as she was led to the couch and gently forced to sit down. She caught snippets of conversations as she tried to fight off the effects of the gas.

“… couldn’t have been Glory.”

“… find Dawn…. Tara?”

She blinked and managed to focus on Buffy and Spike. “Are you two okay?” The words spilled out of her like they’d come from someone else. They were valid words, though. Both of them looked pretty bad, all bruised and scraped up, and Spike’s hair was stained red with blood.

Buffy flashed her a tired smile. “Yeah, more or less. Battered up enough for a good old-fashioned fish fry, but in one piece.” The smile faded. “What happened? Where’s Dawn?”

Oh, god, Dawn. Dawnie. It crashed down on her again, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Sh-sh-she…. R-Riley came, and he, he….” She was talking too fast, her tongue tripping over the words as they tried to come out in a rush. _Breathe, Tara, breathe._ She imagined the words in Willow’s voice, and despite the problems they’d been having, it calmed her enough to continue speaking. “He had a grenade and a mask. I th-think he took her.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike swore, running a hand through his already tousled hair before starting to pace. “Soldier Boy’s gone completely sack of hammers, sounds like.”

“Why would he…?” Buffy stopped and shook her head. “I don’t even care. If he wants to hide her away somewhere, he’s probably somewhere in the Initiative compound. We’ll hunt him down, and then his ass is toast.”

“I can help with that.” The sudden voice startled Tara badly enough that she almost screamed. A man had just swept in through the door Buffy and Spike had left open. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone she might have seen at the college. “The hunting down part, that is. I’ll leave the ass toasting to you.”

“Who…?” Tara started to ask.

“Special Agent Graham Miller, with the army,” the man cut her off. Then he shifted his attention back to Buffy. “I can get you guys in fast and easy, but we need to leave now. Riley is convinced Dawn isn’t human, and I’m betting he didn’t kidnap her just for a friendly game of chess.”

 

**...**

_It’s not human,_ Riley told himself firmly as he set up the cameras. How many times had he walked blithely on past while scientists had worked on other human looking HSTs? This was no different. And it wasn’t like the situation with Oz where he was more or less a human. This… _thing_ had never been human at all. There was nothing wrong with what he had planned, not even the desecration of a corpse argument that could be made over vampires.

He knew all that, but still, the key looked like a vulnerable fourteen-year-old girl, strapped to a surgical table. She’d been stripped down to her Hello Kitty bra and panties and had been gagged to keep her quiet. His every instinct was screaming at him to set her free and get her to safety. Be the big, strong hero that would save the girl. But how many _real_ young girls would suffer if he didn’t do this?

He got the last camera angled just the way he wanted and turned to face the key. It was hyperventilating, desperately trying to drag in air around the gag as it sobbed, tears and snot streaking its pale, terrified face. He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t do this. She was just…. A mystical key that had probably given both Joyce and Buffy cancer. Even if it wasn’t evil, it was a threat to humanity. And he had to have proof of it before he destroyed it, in case another one ever turned up.

He took a deep breath, then started talking for the recording equipment. “This is Riley Finn, former agent of the Initiative. I’ll be providing conclusive proof that the entity known as Dawn Summers is a new type of Hostile Sub-Terrestrial.”

He picked up a scalpel and took a step towards the table, resolutely ignoring the increased sounds of panic from the creature bound to it.

 

**…**

 

_Oh, God, no. Please, no. No. No. No. No!_

He was coming for her. She was strapped to the table and she couldn’t move and he was coming for her. She couldn’t breathe. Her nose was stuffed up and she couldn’t draw in enough air around the gag. She couldn’t move and she couldn’t breathe and he was coming for her. _Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._ He was coming….

She could see the scalpel. It glinted in the light. He was going to use to cut her open. She was awake and aware and he was going to…. He was going to… The blade slashed down, and she tried to scream, but she couldn’t, because she couldn’t breathe. He’d stolen her breath, and drawn a line of fire down her stomach, and she was going to die. She was going to….

There was an inhuman scream of rage, and Riley was suddenly gone from her view. Wet, thudding, crunching sounds filled the room. Then hands were on her, but they were gentle, unstrapping her with a rush of soothing words that washed over her without fully sinking in.

_There now, love, I’ve got you. Get you free in half a tick, yeah? Don’t you worry, Little Bit, big sis is taking care of the wanker. I’ve got you. Shh. Shh. It’s okay, love, I’ve got you._

The restraints and gag were gone. Spike had her. She was suddenly wrapped in something, enveloped in the scent of leather, smoke, and vampire.

Dawn flung her arms around Spike and sobbed against his chest, finally able to breathe.

 

**...**

 

Blackness crept in around the edges of Buffy’s vision, everything narrowed down by sheer rage as she threw herself at Riley. There was a crunch of bone and his nose looked funny and there was blood everywhere and her fist was drawing back to deliver another punch. _He’s human!_ a small voice screamed in the back of her mind. Humans could be punished when they were bad, but they were fragile. She had to be careful, she had to….

Dawn’s hysterical cries got louder, and Buffy turned her head for a moment to see that Spike had pulled out the gag and was ripping away the restraints. There was blood on her stomach from the cut Riley had managed before they’d come to stop him.

Riley was suddenly on the floor on the other side of the room, and Buffy wasn’t entirely sure how he had gotten there. Or how she’d ended up close enough to lift him by the front of the shirt and slam him against the wall.

“Buf…” a cough, thick and wet, cut off his words.

He didn’t look too good. His face was a mess of red, one eye swollen shut, lips split and some teeth missing. Had she done all that?

 _Good_ , she thought fiercely. She was vaguely aware of someone not-Riley calling her name, telling her to stop, but she didn’t care. He had to pay for hurting Dawn. She’s was going to make him –

Sudden pain exploded through her abdomen, and Buffy staggered away from Riley, arms wrapped around herself. What was…? Why…? She could feel something warm and wet running down her thighs. She reached down under her skirt, and her hand came back red. That didn’t…. She couldn’t…. Then dizziness swirled through her, sending her down to her knees.

White noise seemed to fill her ears, along with… with Rehva? Rehva was calling his name. He had to… Senka tried to get up, but his legs refused to cooperate. Rehva was worried. He had to reassure her. He had to….

The white noise grew fur and fangs and ate the world away.


	19. Chapter 19

Buffy was a limp, unconscious weight in his arms as Spike ran into the hospital. _She’ll be fine,_ he thought desperately. _It’s just like Dru after that bloody mob in Prague._ She’d survived that, and he’d made her better. Buffy would survive, too, even if he had to go back to the Initiative labs to rip Finn’s heart out as a bloody offering to whatever god or demon would take it. That thought was actually rather appealing, but he couldn’t afford the distraction of dwelling on it right now.

“Need a doctor here!” he bellowed, slowing so he wouldn’t crash into anything and jostle Buffy. It gave the little bit – all bundled up in his coat – time to catch up with him and plaster herself against his back, her still-shaking hands clutching at his shirt like he was the only lifeline in a world that had got even scarier than usual. “She’s bleedin’ out. Needs a transfusion. She’s O neg.”

God, he could feel her blood all over him, the heady scent driving him crazy with a sickening mix of terror and desire. He wanted to shove it back inside her somehow, let the red of it bring the color back to her pale cheeks. He wanted to lick himself clean, take the flavor and essence of her inside, to be savored and cherished. Wanted to….

People in scrubs where there with a gurney, after a forever that had lasted only moments, trying to take Buffy away from him. He had to fight the urge to growl at them and hold her tighter. _They’re here to help, you useless git!_ he snarled at himself as he handed her over.

“Has she been drinking or doing any drugs?” one of them asked while the others wheeled her away, calling out arcane medical terms. When he didn’t answer right away, the nurse continued, “Sir, we need to know so we can properly treat her.”

“No. No drugs or alcohol. She’s, uh, she’s Buffy Summers. Her mum is here right now. A patient. Joyce Summers.”

That was apparently enough information to start with, because the person went away, leaving him there alone with Dawn. And all the others hanging about, of course, but she was the only one that mattered to him. And now that her big sis was being looked after, he suddenly remembered that the girl needed to be checked out, as well. She’d a cut likely in need of stitches.

“Come on, let’s get you checked in,” he said, taking a step towards the counter.

“No,” she whimpered. “No. No. I, I don’t….”

Bloody hell. Spike squeezed his eyes shut, trying to figure out what to do. He wished they hadn’t left Tara behind to recover from the gas grenade. Or that he’d had time to stop by the house to pick her up. Once Buffy had collapsed, he’d sprung into action, somehow managing to grab up both her and Dawn and catch the keys that Miller bloke had tossed at him. He’d taken the man’s truck and sped straight to hospital.

All the poor little chit had been through with her sister’s ex tonight, it was no wonder she didn’t want to be looked over by a bunch of strangers. _Giles,_ he thought suddenly. As an active watcher, he had to have enough basic medical training to patch up his slayer, didn’t he? At least enough to clean and stitch up a wound.

He didn’t want to leave, but he knew what Buffy would want of him. He’d take Dawn to Giles. And talk to the man about just what the bloody hell had happened to Buffy. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural, and he had a suspicion about who was responsible. If he was right…. Well, if it was up to him, Red’s nickname wouldn’t just describe her hair.

 

**...**

Willow stared up at the ceiling, feeling both drained and elated as she lay there on the floor. She’d done it. Well, she didn’t have concrete proof or anything, but considering how much energy it had taken, the spell had to have worked. Buffy was whole again. Physically at least, anyway. Now she just had to do the memory erase, and they’d have the old Buffy back. No more painful memories of years of terrible slavery. No more obsession with Spike.

She sat up and looked over at the baggie of Lethe’s Bramble. Should she go ahead and do it now, or wait until she had more energy? She was really excited about it, but she was also pretty tired. Before she could decide, the door suddenly slammed open, and Giles stormed in, looking furious. Tara was right behind him, looking like she was about to cry.

Willow jumped up to her feet, ignoring the surge of lightheadedness from the abrupt movement. “What is it? What’s wro–”

“Silence!” Giles snapped, hand lifting in what looked a lot like a magical gesture. “You will speak when I say you may, and not a moment before.”

His words and tone hit like a physical blow, making her stagger back in hurt confusion. What was going on? Why was he being so mean? _Jealousy,_ a little voice in her head suggested. She tried to form words, to ask her questions and fling out her accusation, but she couldn’t speak. Giles had used magic on her, just coming in and _stealing_ her voice.

She tried to push back, to cut through with her own power, but she was still weak from the spell to restore Buffy, and there was some sort of… of _barrier_ blocking her. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what was going on. Was this some kind of witch hunt, like back with the Hansel and Gretel demons?

No, that didn’t make any sense. Giles wouldn’t be using magic against her if that was the case. And Tara…. The feeling of betrayal bit down even harder on her heart as she realized Tara was murmuring softly, a very familiar spell to join her power with someone else’s. She wasn’t just bearing witness to this. She was actively helping Giles.

“What have you done?” he demanded.

Some of the magic pressure let up. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “What’s goi–” Her mouth snapped shut so fast, she almost bit her tongue.

“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.” Giles voice was ice. “Buffy is in the emergency room, suffering from severe internal hemorrhaging. What. Have. You. _Done.”_

She felt the blood drain from her face. Buffy was in the hospital? With internal bleeding? That shouldn’t have happened. Unless…. Nausea roiled in Willow’s gut. She had been so sure she’d gotten things right, but what if too much of the original spell had been used? Or if she hadn’t used enough ingredients to fully regrow Buffy’s uterus?

“I… I just wanted to help,” she whispered. “I tried to regrow….” She couldn’t talk anymore, and this time it had nothing to do with magic, just the look in Giles’s eyes.

“You and Buffy discussed this, then?” He took several steps towards Willow, and she found herself backing away. “She agreed to it, and the two of you set up a date and time for the spell to be performed?”

“Well, no, I just –”

“You just,” he said harshly, cutting her off. “You just acted as you saw fit. You went in and used your power to make changes to Buffy’s body without her knowledge or consent.”

The way he said it, the look on his face as he said it…. He made it sound like she’d… like she’d _violated_ one of her best friends. But she hadn’t. She _hadn’t_. “I-it’s not like that!”

“It’s exactly like that,” Tara said quietly. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “Wh-what you’ve done…. My god, Willow! M-magic isn’t meant to be used like that! It, it’s a violation. You violated Buffy and, and you violated the magic.”

Willow staggered back, bumping into the wall. How could Tara think that? Tara, who had grown up with magic. Who had nurtured and guided her path deeper in. Tara thought she had done something horrible. Had she? Oh god.

“I… I can fix this. If we all work together, we, we can –”

“No,” Giles said with a dark finality. “You have caused terrible harm to Buffy, and the only ones who can ‘fix it’ are the medical team working on her right now.”

No. No, that wasn’t fair. She’d just made another mistake, and she needed to be allowed to fix it. That’s how things worked. You messed up, and then you _fixed_ it. Except… sometimes things stayed broken, didn’t they? And sometimes… sometimes trying to fix things just made it all worse. Her knees suddenly went weak and she slid down to the floor.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said in a voice as small as she felt. “What… what am I supposed to do?”

She could wait until Buffy healed, then do the memory spell, but it wouldn’t take long for Buffy to realize something was wrong. The first missed period, and….

Giles sighed, some of the anger seeming to drain out of him. “Obviously, none of my lessons have got through to you, and Tara has not been enough of a restraining influence. I’ve already put in a call to a coven in Devon. One of their members is on her way. She will be putting a stronger block on your magic and teaching you ethics. If you don’t appear to be gaining an understanding of the teachings within a year, the binding will be made permanent.”

Permanent? They would take away her magic forever just because she’d…. Her eyes strayed towards the bag of Lethe’s Bramble as she thought of using it again. She could play along for a bit until she was able to use her magic again, and then….

Maybe… maybe she could do more than erase memories. She could add ones. Joyce had cancer. What if they all thought Buffy did, too? That she’d needed a hysterectomy to get rid of it. It would all work. Willow could fix everything, make everyone feel the way they should. She’d just….

She’d just slash away and rewrite everyone the way she wanted them to be. Violate them. And she couldn’t even argue it was for their own good. Because it wasn’t. It was for _her_ good.

Willow closed her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest. She hadn’t just made a mistake. Even after her impulsive act had destroyed the book, she hadn’t really learned anything at all. She’d taken the time to do a bit more research, but she’d still been throwing magic around casually, with no regard to anyone else or real thoughts of the consequences.

And now she had to pay the price.

 

**...**

 

Buffy was awake and flipping through a magazine when Spike peered into her room. She looked a sight better than the day before, some of the tubes and wires and whatall removed. Her vitals were still being monitored, though, and an IV delivered fluids, nutrients, and medicines into her veins.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at the sight of him.

“Hey yourself, love,” he said as he walked into the room. He sat down on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. Slayer healing or not, she’d had her belly sliced open and her insides rifled through to remove whatever bit of horror Willow had put there. “Docs say yet when you’ll get out for good behavior?”

She grimaced and stuck her tongue out at him before answering. “Good behavior keeps you in longer. If I complain and have enough fits, they’ll want to get rid of me sooner.” Her expression got more serious. “They’re still running some tests on the… the mass they removed. But, uh, if I keep doing well, they think I can go home tomorrow. Same time as Mom.”

Spike had to fight the urge to storm out, hunt Red down, and throttle the bitch. As it was, Giles had had to threaten him with a cross and being chained back up in the bathtub – a hollow threat now the chip was gone – to keep him away from the confrontation.

Just as well, though. The Bit had needed rest after getting stitched up, and she’d been terrified at the thought of being separated from him. Only reason the poor little chit wasn’t clung to him right now was because she was off visiting with her mum.

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice was oddly hesitant. “The, uh, the doctors? They told me… I can probably cut the time in half, because, you know, Slayer and all, and….” The words tripped out in a rush before she stopped and took a deep breath. “I know we just started it back up, but, uh, the doctors said no vaginal sex for six weeks.”

He couldn’t help smiling. Was a serious situation and all, but she looked so bloody adorable, all nervous and shy about things. He reached out to slide his finger along her jaw, tilting her head up so she was looking him in the eye.

“Hey now, love, no worries. Only six weeks, yeah? And that’s based on the healing of a normal human. And if we’ve both an itch needs scratching, well, found all kinds of ways for that before, didn’t we?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, which got a grin and a blush.

He took one of her hands in his and linked their fingers, suddenly feeling a bit pensive. “And even if we didn’t have all that, I wouldn’t toss you aside for lack of shagging. Don’t need sex for love. Me an’ Dru…. After she got sick, she couldn’t handle more than cuddles, you know? And then you dropped that bloody organ on me, and wasn’t much I could do for her after that. She was there for me until….”

Until Buffy’s ex had gone all evil again and butted into things. He knew she’d never go back to the pillock, that Buffy was true and loyal, but he couldn’t help wondering if she’d end up throwing him aside just as Dru had. All the time and effort spent lovingly at her side, seeing her through the rough times, discarded once those rough times were past.

Her hand squeezed his comfortingly. “Hey, you and me together, okay? We’re partners. I… I love you. And I know you love me. You’ve said it. You’ve shown it. It’s the reason you aren’t out there right now, killing and eating all of the nummy walking happy meals. I don’t think Riley would have even been willing to give up real happy meals for me. And Angel….”

She trailed off and laughed, but there was no humor to it. “God, I was so hung up on him. He was always coming and going, being all mysterious. He’d be there if he absolutely had to be, but for the most part, he just left me to figure things out on my own. He didn’t have my back. And….” She stopped to take a deep breath. “Lack of sex is one of the reasons he left me.”

“Wanker,” he muttered.

No wonder she’d been worried he might scarper. _A right mess of insecurities, the both of us, aren’t we? h_ e thought wryly. Wasn’t anything really new though. They’d been together for nearly six years.

“You’re a vampire without a soul, but I know you’re doing your best to be good. For me. That… that means a lot.” She looked down at their hands, seeming uncomfortable with all of the emotional talk. “And, and you know, who else am I going to find who’s man enough to be my naughty girl when I feel like being a bad boy?”

The look in her eyes, the way she said it…. She didn’t just mean possible retreats to Senka while she healed enough to fully accept her womanhood back. He lifted their linked hands and kissed hers before running his tongue along it, taking in the heady flavor of her.

“Anything you want me to be, love,” he whispered huskily. “And once you’re feeling better….” He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “Well, your naughty girl might just need a bit of punishment, I’m thinking.”

 

**...**

 

The shop was closed up for the night, but Giles was still there, sitting at the research table and unwinding with a glass of scotch. The past few days had been unbelievably busy. The research into Glory and Dawn had continued despite Dawn’s unfortunate experience and Buffy’s hospitalization. And then Ms. Phoebe Thorpe had arrived from Devon to put a stronger binding on Willow and teach her. She’d also taken Tara under her wing as a pupil, and the shy young woman already seemed to be thriving, like a flower given fertilizer.

The bell over the door rang, and he looked up, expecting a would-be customer who didn’t realize they were closed. Instead, it was Buffy, looking pale and small in soft, baggy clothing. He immediately got up and pulled out a chair for her. She sat down gingerly with a wan smile and not even an attempt at a quip.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting down beside her. His poor, dear girl. Everything she’d gone through, compounded by Willow’s hubris. “Do, do you need anything?”

“Hanging in there, for now.” She went silent for a moment, picking absently at a loose thread on her t-shirt. “So, about Glory. Spike had an idea.”

She eyed him, no doubt expecting some sort of objection before even hearing the idea. Maybe he would have in the past, but he’d seen what the vampire had done for both Buffy and Dawn. For good or ill, he was part of the team, and Giles wasn’t going to just dismiss an idea of his out of hand.

“Go ahead,” he quietly encouraged.

“When we fought her, Glory mentioned a time limit. If she could sense Dawn, she would have found her by now, so….” She shrugged and continued. “Spike sold some gems from the other dimension for a pretty big chunk of money and suggested that me, Mom, him, and Dawn head down to Florida to wait things out.”

“That’s… bloody brilliant, honestly,” he admitted.

Glory’s presence seemed to have caused the normal Hellmouth activity to die down, reducing the need for a slayer. And after all she’d been through, lord knew Buffy could use a vacation. It would no doubt be good for her mother’s recovery as well.

“So you’re okay with the idea?” She seemed cautiously hopeful, as if she’d expected to have to lay down the law with him as she had with Xander days ago.

“Absolutely. And with an accomplished and knowledgeable witch like Ms. Thorpe at hand, we should be able to handle things here. It’s possible we could lead Glory all about on various wild goose chases until the time limit runs out.” He considered the possibilities for a moment, then turned his attention back to Buffy. “When will you be leaving?”

“As soon as possible. Dawn….” She sighed and looked down at the table, drawing random patterns on it with her finger. “She’s not doing well. At all. She knows Riley can’t get at her again since he’s been tossed into a secret military nut house, but she keeps having nightmares. She doesn’t feel safe in the house she was kidnapped from.”

They lapsed into silence, then. An oddly comfortable one, but Giles was going to have to break it. There was something that needed to be addressed before Buffy left with her mother and sister. And her boyfriend.

“Buffy, about Spike…”

Her whole body tensed, a grimace of pain shooting across her face before she forced herself to relax. “Look, I know you don’t approve, but this is my life. I –”

“Yes, it is,” he cut in, obviously surprising her. “And no, I don’t approve,” he managed a smile for her. “But then, I see you as a daughter, and that, my girl, means no one is good enough for you in my eyes. But at least you’ve the sense to be dating an Englishman this time around.”

That got a laugh and an easing of the tension. “In all seriousness,” he continued, “who you are with is up to you. No one else can make that decision for you. And as to Spike being a vampire…. When you were with Angel, the love you felt for him….”

“Was kid love,” she finished for him staring down at her fingers. “It was intense, and it was real, and the pain was real, but it was kid love.”

“Indeed, because you were still a child in many ways. Despite that, you were able to do what needed to be done and send Angel to hell.” And now, despite still looking like she should still be in high school – a combination of good genes and slayer healing – she was a mature young woman who had been through more than he could even imagine. And she had a mature, deep love for the vampire… the _man_ who had been by her side for it all. “I believe that Spike will do his best to stay on the relatively straight and narrow. And I know that you’ve the strength to deal with things if it turns out he can’t.”

Buffy stared at him silently for a moment. Then she slowly, carefully turned in her chair and reached out to hug him. It was too tight and made breathing somewhat difficult, but he didn’t care. They could have so easily lost her in that other dimension. Those days without her, with no idea if she’d ever return…. But she was back with them now. Off to Florida soon, but still home, where she belonged.


	20. Chapter 20

Joyce stared down at the cell phone in her hand. They could go home. Giles had just called to report that they’d successfully convinced some group of knights and Glory that something called a Dagon sphere was the key. When they’d started fighting over it, Glory had been weakened enough that the knights had been able to destroy her somehow. It had apparently cost most of their lives, but Glory was gone. They could pack up tonight and head home. If they wanted to.

She sighed and looked out towards the ocean. Watching her girls together in the waves from her beach chair, she could almost pretend it was a normal vacation. Just a mother and her children enjoying a stay at the beach, along with the older daughter’s… photosensitive boyfriend.

Despite the complications of finding someone to look after the gallery and getting Dawn set up for home schooling for the rest of the school year, the forced vacation had been good for them all, giving time to heal both physically and mentally.

Dawn still had nightmares sometimes about her kidnapping, but she was doing better, especially with the constant reassurance that she was real and part of the family, no matter what she’d started out as.

Six years of slavery had taken their toll on Buffy, and she’d never fully go back to being the girl she’d been before it all, but she was adjusting. Sometimes she was a son instead of a daughter, and that was… strange and confusing, but Joyce was adjusting, too. And the relative peace and calm was helping Buffy to be Buffy more often. She still went out regularly to patrol their temporary home, but putting a hold on the slaying probably would have been an even bigger stressor.

Joyce looked back down at the phone. Giles had asked her to call once they had a plan for going back to Sunnydale. For a moment, she considered just staying in Florida, away from the dangers of the Hellmouth. But that was where Buffy’s duty as the slayer called her to be, and she needed her family there with her. That didn’t mean they had to go right away, though. The vacation house they’d rented was paid up for two more weeks. They’d spend the rest of that time here, and then… then they’d all go home.

 

**...**

 

A warm sea breeze ruffled her hair as she lay stretched out on a beach lounger, watching the setting sun paint the few rippled clouds a gold-kissed pink. She had this part of the beach mostly to herself with a refreshing fruity cocktail in a fake coconut half to keep her company. It even had a pink straw and a nifty little umbrella. All in all, it was a pretty good evening to be Buffy Summers.

 _Buffy Summers…._ Her free hand drifted down her bikini clad body to the scar left by the emergency surgery. Thanks to her slayer healing, it looked like it was years old instead of just months. Emotionally, though…. She’d held it together in Sunnydale, but once they’d safely gotten to Florida, she’d fallen apart, retreating to Senka for a solid week while she struggled with the memories of what had been done to her as a slave.

She’d worked through a lot of it with the help of a demon therapist Giles had found. But some days, she just couldn’t handle being Buffy, and Senka would come out to play. Though those days had started becoming fewer and fewer.

Well, not counting the bedroom games she and Spike liked to play sometimes, but most of the time, that was her, just acting a role for fun. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Her vampire was _very_ good at playing “naughty girl.” That husky, higher pitched voice…. Mmmm.

Her fantasies were interrupted by a blanket-shrouded figure settling down on the sand beside her. The sun continued to dip down, and the blanket was pushed back, exposing Spike to rays just strong enough to immediately pinken his skin. The freckles along his cheeks had started to fade a little, but they were still there. Buffy idly wondered if his habit of playing tag with Mr. Sunshine would keep them around longer.

 _It doesn’t really matter,_ she thought as she reached into the cooler by her side. Spike was Spike, freckled or not. She handed him a fake coconut filled with rum and lamb blood. Once he had the top off, she handed him the necessary pink straw and mini umbrella with all the solemnity of a religious ritual.

“Thanks, love,” he said gravely, the quirk of his lips and sparkle in his eyes betraying the amusement he was carefully keeping out of his voice.

Most of the time, Mom and Dawn would still be on the beach when Spike was able to join them, but sometimes they’d get an evening like this to themselves. Once the sun fully set, the beautiful blue glooming ( _gloaming, pet,_ the Spike voice in her head corrected) painting the night, they’d stroll along the beach together, talking or just hanging out. Collecting the occasional shell.

If they felt like it, they’d go out into the water, splashing around and playing in the waves like a pair of dolphins. And after, if no one else was around and they’d remembered to bring what they needed to counteract the very unpleasant friction of salt and sand, one of them would lay the other down on the sand and…. It was a damn good thing she’d asked Anya to take her toy shopping before they’d gone to Florida. So many great finds.

The sun dipped down below the horizon just as Spike finished his drink. He stood up and offered her a hand. She didn’t need it of course, but she took it anyway and let him pull her to her feet. This was going to be the last night here before the trip back to Sunnydale. Or home, as Mom and Dawn called it. Here or there, it didn’t really matter to Buffy. Familiar lands or strange, home was where the heart was, and hers was with Spike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to all of the lovely people of [Hidden Gems forum](http://spuffygems.boards.net/) and the [Hidden Gems chat](https://discord.gg/ppd4jMQ) for the support and help in getting the new (and true) version of this story posted.


End file.
